Piecing it all Together Part 1
by Kittykraze
Summary: Sam's sudden death forces Team One to investigate his mysterious past. How can Team One solve this mystery and find what really killed their teammate when everything in the Braddock's lives is kept hidden in the bottomless ocean of their souls? It takes the team longer than usual to finally piece it all together. Many old demons and secrets surface in this "perfect" family.
1. Chapter 1

**Piecing It All Together:**

**Chapter 1:** _A/N: Ok, I don't know if you guys are going to like this a whole lot. I'm not sure if I'll keep it posted/posting. I've written up to chapter 5 but this whole story can only happen if this one terribly tragic thing happens so I don't know. Feedback is appreciated. I got this story idea one night while I was sleeping and I realized that we don't know too much about Sam's past, childhood, or his parents. Personally, I'm not too fond of the General and this becomes quite apparent throughout this probably long novel so I call it. So, let me know if you think I should keep posting on this story or just keep it down. I really hate what I'm about to do, but it's sort of necessary in order to form the story. I'm sorry Sam! I really do love you and please don't take it personally. Alright, here it is. _

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"Hello? Sargent Gregory Parker? This is General Braddock. I'm calling about an officer of yours. Yes, Samuel Braddock. No, his flight will not be arriving late. My son is dead."

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_(Flashpoint transition)_  
• 3 days earlier

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It is the first Friday in November and Team One has the whole weekend and all day Monday, off duty. Most of the members are going to visit family or stay home with their spouses or girlfriends. However, Sam has business to attend to though. No matter how much he wants to enjoy a relaxing three day weekend with Jules, the General ordered him to come to the base for meetings during all three days. If this was anyone else on the face of the earth Sam would've said, "Yeah, not doing it." But orders are orders; especially if they are from your father who happens to be the General of the Canadian Army.

The General and Sam have not gotten along well since Sam was nine years old and his younger sister, Sara, was killed by a drunk driver while he was with her. The General has always told Sam that it is still his fault that she died. As Sam ponders the next three worst days of his life in the men's locker room of the SRU headquarters, he mindlessly changes out of his uniform, dresses into civilian clothes, and packs his duffle bag with everything he needs from his locker for his "trip." When he finishes, he steps out of the room and waits by Jules' dressing room door. As she comes out to meet him in the hall with her bags she smiles warmly.

"Hey, Sam, what exactly are you doing this weekend?" Jules asks her fiancé. He mentioned a few days earlier that he had something to do this weekend, but Jules wanted to know details.

"Oh, the General wants to talk to me about 'business.' Yay." When a worried expression crosses his fiancé's face he says, "Don't worry babe, I'm sure I'll be home before shift starts on Tuesday."

When she shoots a skeptical look at him, he quickly answers. "Hey! Don't give me that look. I think I can handle the General." He says wrapping his arms around her, gently kissing her cheek.

"Braddock!" A harsh voice interrupts their affection in the hallway of the SRU headquarters.

"Give me a break, Ed. I won't see her until Tuesday when we start shift." Sam responds smiling as he turns around to face his team leader, gathering Jules close to him.

"I hear ya buddy, but can you do... that, somewhere private?" Ed laughs and motions to the couple.

Sam just laughs and kisses Jules some more.

Ed throws his hands into the air. "Oh, what the heck! Be safe Samo. Watch the traffic, ok?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Sam says waving Ed off.

Ed just smiles and with a shake of his head, leaves the Barn.

"Where are you going to be staying?" Jules asks being wrapped even tighter in Sam's strong arms.

"I'll be in Ottawa. Base meetings, blah, blah, blah. Become the next general Sam. Quit your job Sam. Spend a few more years putting holes in people's head then you can make people wish they _**had**_ a hole in their head!" Sam laughs mocking the General.

"Seriously?" Jules asks in disbelief enjoying Sam's nuzzling way too much.

"Yep, that's what I'm going to be hearing for the next three days. Don't worry; I'll try to sneak home every night to sing you a lullaby." He says laughing although deep down he wishes he could.

"Oh, please. A call, text, and Skype chat will do." She says laughing while she grabs her duffel bag from the floor as they begin to leave. Sam pops his head into the briefing room to say a quick good bye to his Sargent.

"See you Tuesday, Boss. I might be a little late depending on which flight the General put me on, but either he or I will call you if I'm going to be late."

"Ok, thanks Sam. Stay safe flying ok? With the General too." Greg says giving him a knowing look. He knows that the father and son do not get along at all, so things could go south very quickly.

"Yeah, I'll try." He says attempting to read his Sargent's expression.

_'How much does he know about the General and me?'_ Sam wonders. He shrugs it off knowing that no one knows as much as they should.

"Ok, see you Tuesday, Sam. You too Jules. Hey, are you going to go see your family?" Greg asks.

"No, I'm going to be here, at home, wishing my Sammy was home." She says and his arm immediately wraps around her waist again.

Greg laughs, "Ok. You guys should get going; I'll see you both on Tuesday."

"Yes sir." Sam answers. "C'mon Jules." he says grabbing her bag as well as his own. "Tuesday Boss."

"Yep, Tuesday." Greg says and nods them both off.

With both bags in tow, Sam does not have a hand to hold Jules' outstretched one. He looks at her quizzically then tries to find a way where he can hold both bags and Jules' hand.

She laughs as she can see his thoughts written clearly on his face. "It's ok. We're already at the Jeep."

Jules unlocks her Jeep as Sam places both bags in the back. When he climbs in the passenger side of the vehicle she engages the engine. She pulls out of the parking lot and into the busy street. This is the first time they have had off at twelve in the afternoon and not midnight or something. The drive to her house takes longer than usual due to lunch hour traffic. She really does not want Sam to spend this rare opportunity off in meetings with his father who hates him. But she guesses that Sam is right. Orders are orders. She finally pulls into the driveway and cuts the engine. Sam leaps out, grabs the bags, and walks up the path into the cozy little house he helped remodel. Jules declares that she is going to make a snack for them.

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**Sam's POV:**

I walk up the stairs, three at a time like I normally do and head into our bedroom. I had already laid out my small suitcase and had started packing last night, but when you get home at three in the morning after killing a young mother and father, you don't really feel like packing. All I wanted to do was sleep. Not that I slept much between throwing up and passing out in the bathroom while my fiancé is franticly rushing around me thinking that I've died or something. She had aroused me from unconsciousness and had started to walk/carry me back to our bed when I passed out again. When Jules couldn't wake me but was satisfied with my vitals, she just left me to "sleep" on the cold tile floor for the next three hours before shift started.

A sigh escapes my lips as I remember last night's call. _'No, I can't think about that now.'_ I tell myself and focus on the task ahead of me.

I'm only going to be gone for three days so I basically need three of everything. Three sets of shirts and pants, three pajamas, three underwear, three pairs of socks and two pairs of shoes. Once I find and pack all of my clothes, I gather my bathroom items. I sit down on our bed when I finish. I wonder how I'm going to handle the General. No one knows about my past or what he's capable of except for Mom and Natalie; and no one's been able to help for years. At least I'll be in a meeting with other men so he can't do anything to me in front of them. Jules' voice drifts up the stairs and yanks me out of my head.

"Sam, come down for a minute. I have something for you!"

"Ok, I'll be right there babe." I call back.

_'Wonder what it could be?'_ I think. As I walk down the steps I suddenly freeze when I see what Jules is holding.

"Are-are those my dog tags?" I ask never wanting to see those two dreadful pieces of metal again.

"No, don't be silly. I had a tag made for you that has both of our names on it." She says smiling.

"Oh, thank you Jules. It's beautiful." I say sincerely.

I hold the metal tag in my palm and feel the letters of both of our engraved names. I flip it over and see something even more beautiful. An engraved portrait of my Jules is right on the back.

"Thank you sweetie. Thank you so much." I say fighting tears.

I quickly gather her up in my arms wishing I could hug her forever. I love how she melts in my arms and how her smile never disappears.

"C'mon, let's eat then I can drive you to the airport. Ok? Sam? Is something wrong? If you don't like it I can take it back." She asks placing a worried hand on my arm.

"No, I love it. I'm just thinking about those awful meetings I've got to sit through." I say smiling. I'm thinking about something a whole lot worse than that but I don't let Jules know. She doesn't need to be worried about me.

"Are you sure?" She asks.

"Absolutely. I love you with all of my heart. I will never stop loving you, not even for a second. No matter where I am." I say reassuring her.

"I love you too Sam." She says back, smiling. I follow her into the kitchen and sir down. "Let's eat." She says placing one of her delicious smoothies in front of me with a gorgeous bowl of fresh fruit following it.

"Wow! Thanks! This is delicious!" I say when I've tasted everything.

We eat, snuggle, and admire the engagement ring I bought for her a few weeks ago until three o'clock rolls around and I need to leave so I can catch my 3:45 flight to Ottawa. I grab my suitcase, double check that I have everything I need, and then we start to drive to the airport. I don't want Jules to know that my stomach is in nervous, tense knots. She doesn't know much about my past and I don't really want to tell her now; at least not for a little while. The General is intimidating, but I've grown up with him so it's not that bad. It's just some of the things he does scares me. It's like he lost his heart years ago when we all lost my sister. If someone dies he always finds a way to blame it on the dead guy. It's just sick. He rushes commands and ends up losing a lot of soldiers because of it. Jules can tell I'm a little jumpy. She keeps on glancing over at me until we are finally standing inside of the terminal.

I place my bag on the tile floor, give her a hug, a long kiss, and whisper "I will love you no matter what." in her ear.

She returns the words to me. I turn and start to walk through the tunnel that leads into my father's private jet but I turn around to face her again. Tears are dripping down her face and I resist the urge to run back to her. I hold up our dog tags and kiss them. She laughs and smiles then waves good bye to me.

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_A/N: Ok, yes, Sam and Jules are __**officially **__engaged. It's not Godly nor moral to live together if you're just dating so I try to avoid that. Thanks for reading and please review. I'm still indecisive if I'm going to keep posting these chapters. It's really tragic, but think of it as a murder mystery. I really couldn't find another way to craftily uncover Sam's past. I mean, it's not like he would just tell you one day. He's not that kind of guy. And, yeah, anyway. Let me know, and I'll see what I can do. If you're wondering, no, I really don't like killing Sam and I hate myself for doing it, but the whole story is formed from that. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:** _A/N: Hi guys, so again, this story is based off of a very tragic event. Although I did not really want to do, it was necessary for this story to take shape. Thanks again for reading and please review. Just let me know what you think. Thanks!_

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**Jules' POV:**

I don't want to watch him leave. I don't understand why he keeps on saying "I will love you no matter what." I'm glad he will but why is he saying that? I guess I'll have to wait until he calls me tonight. I should get home before I start a flash flood. My eyes linger on the large private jet that Sam just boarded. A sudden rush of emotions bubble up and I quickly turn and walk away.

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**Sam's POV:**

I nervously board the jet glancing around for nearby snipers. When I do not find any, I knock on the door of the jet. Two security guards check my ID, frisk me, and then allow me to enter. The General is waiting for me sitting in one of the leather seats. As soon as I look around, I realize that all of the curtains are tightly drawn and no outside light can be seen.

"You were nearly late son." The General says breaking the awkward silence.

"My apologies, sir." I say not making eye contact with him.

The pilot yells to the General, "Ready sir? We've been given the signal to leave."

"Almost," He answers. "My son still needs to be settled in."

He walks over to me and places one hand on my upper arm and the other on my back. He seems to be guiding me to a seat. The body guard takes my suitcase and grabs ahold of my other arm in the same area. Strange tingling sensations originate from where both men touched me. The tingles rapidly carry throughout the far reaches of my body until I am numb. The interior of the plane starts to spin. The world turns blurry and disoriented.

_'Crap!'_ I think._ 'Must've had syringe in jacket cuff...'_

The world is quickly fading away to blackness. I try my very hardest to stay conscious. I should've known he would do something like this. Despite my best efforts, I crumple to the floor unconscious.

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**The General's POV:**

I am confident of my plan. As soon as Sam boards my jet everything is perfect as if off of a script. My body guard and I successfully administer the drug without Sam realizing what happened. When my son's eyes roll backwards and he falls into a motionless heap on the floor, I call for my pilot to take off.

"Curtis!" I bark at the guard. "Put him in a seat and buckle him up. Watch for any outside activity; especially from the kitchen."

Curtis does as he is told and places Sam in a leather seat in the middle of my small jet. He  
secures the seat belt around him and strides into the kitchen.

_'Probably needs more coffee.' _I think as I watch him disappear. _'I do too on this long flight.'_

A flight to the Ottawa base wouldn't take more than two hours. We are not going to the base though. We are going to Kandahar, Afghanistan. I need him, desperately. I just can't believe I got him to do this! I did discipline him well though. Everything will seem like he's at Ottawa in meetings all day. The only thing I've got to worry about is his stupid fiancé.

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**Stewardess' POV:**

I cannot believe that I gave the General that drug! What was I thinking? That poor young man. I did not want to cause anyone harm.

"Sheila!" The General yells.

I scurry out of the small kitchen to see what the General needs. He is no longer in the passenger part of the plane but in the cockpit with the pilot.

"Yes sir?" I ask.

"Sheila, I need more coffee. Peppermint mocha. Two creams, three sugars, and a pinch of cinnamon." He says demandingly.

"Yes sir. It may take a few minutes though. The coffee pot is not fully heated yet." I answer.

"Fine. Just get it to me as soon as it's ready." He says sighing.

"Yes sir." I say and walk back to the kitchen.

As I walk by the young man who is slouching up against the window unconscious from my drugs, I slow to study him. He, for one is very attractive with dirty blonde hair and kind face. The color of his eyes remains a mystery as they are shut. A small drizzle of red liquid trickles down his arm. '_Blood'_ I realize. I shake my head. I taught the General many times about how to properly inject the drug without causing your victim to bleed. Oh, well. I unbuckle the man and pull his t-shirt sleeve up so I can see the injection point. Blood steadily drips down his arm and seeps into his shirt. A wave of sorrow crashes over me.

_'I did this'_ I realize. This innocent, young man is injured and unconscious because of me. I leave the man to rummage around in the back of the plane for the first aid kit which contains disinfectant wipes and a bandage. The coffee is about halfway done so I do not have much time. I make sure that the General is still with the pilot before I walk to the man again. I wipe both of the areas on his upper arms where the syringe had punctured through his skin. As I am trying to apply the bandage, the turbulence increases causing the man to fall into the aisle. I gasp loudly and drop the bandages. The General strides out to see what's going on. He scarcely notices the man on the floor.

Instead he says, "Sheila, why are you out here and where is my coffee?"

"I was coming to tell you that your coffee is nearly done when that man fell into the aisle." I explain finding a quick but solid explanation.

"Ah, I see. I need that coffee." He says and begins to walk back to the pilot.

"Yes sir. Are you just going to leave him there?" I ask.

"Oh, well I suppose that you could just put him back in the seat and re-buckle him." He replies and walks back to the cockpit.

"Yes sir." I say and when he disappears, I quickly bandage the man's wounds.

_'He is heavier than he looks. Must be all of his muscles.'_ I think as I place him back into his seat and secure the belt.

I disappear back into the kitchen. The General's coffee will be ready just as soon as I place the finishing touches on the drink. Walking up to the pilot without glancing at the young man is extremely difficult; especially since I essentially did this. The General just grunts as I hand him his coffee.

_'It's going to be a long flight.'_ I think to myself.

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_A/N: Ok, so what'd you think? Is it ok? I know the chapters are short and broken up strangely, but my original chapter 1 was almost 15 pages long and I thought it could stand to be a little shorter. Thanks so much for reading and please review!_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**_ A/N: Hi! Ok, this chapter is really, really short. Sorry. Chapter 4 should be up by Friday or Saturday at the latest. Thanks so much for reading and please review!__**  
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**General's POV-**

Fourteen hours later, my private jet lands in Kandahar, Afghanistan. With the time change, it's already 2:53pm on Saturday. I yell for Curtis to grab Sam off the plane as I exit myself. Ten dragging minutes following the landing, everyone hops off my jet. Curtis brings Sam to me and places him into the backseat of my waiting limo. Curtis grabs Sam's, his, and my bags from the cargo hold and loads them into the trunk of the limousine.

"C'mon!" I shout to Curtis.

He is a bumbling idiot; always moving at -3 miles per hour when he's doing anything. He finally sits himself down next to Sam. Thank The Lord he is **not** my driver.

"You," I order snapping my fingers at the driver. I sort of forget his name but being the General, people do what you want them to even if you just look at them. "Drive. Make sure no one asks about-him." I say nodding my head towards my unconscious son in the backseat.

The driver nods once as a sign that he understands. "What shall I say if someone does ask?" He questions.

"Tell them that he is an experienced soldier coming to help us."

"Yes sir. Shall I drive you home or to the base?" The driver asks.

"Take us home. We need to get settled and I need to meet with some men." I respond wishing he would shut up and drive.

"Yes sir, of course. Now would you like any refreshments?" He asks as he begins to drive out of the airport parking lot.

"_**Shut up!**_" I roar. "Shut up and drive you ******* fool!" I reach for my sidearm.

"Sorry! Sorry. So sorry, sir! It won't happen again. I'll take you right home." The driver profusely apologizes as he scrunches down in his seat, cowering in fear.

He gases the car and arrives at my house in 10 minutes, half the time that it usually takes. I unlock the door and enter. Curtis carries Sam and my bags inside as well as my son himself. Sam is placed on my black patent leather sofa. He is starting to arouse from the drugs, right on time too. My wife thankfully isn't home. I'd get a whole lot of mouth out of her if she saw Sam drugged up and unconscious. I have exactly one hour before my 5 o'clock meetings. As I unpack my bags and eat a very early dinner, my son starts to stir on my sofa. Every muscle of his twitches at least once before he pries his eyes open. I walk to the front door to lock the pad lock, keeping out of my son's vision. I want him to realize and accept where he is on his own terms. Quietly, I creep up the steps to my wife's and my bedroom.

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**Sam's POV:**

"What the heck. Where am I?" I ask quietly while pushing myself into a sitting position.

I rub my arms. For some reason, there is a dull ache originating there. As I glance around the strangely familiar house, I curse under my breath.

"Crap. Why am I in the General's house in," I trail off peering outside. "Holy. I'm in Kandahar." I finish starting to panic.

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_A/N: So, I told you it was short. What do think Sam will do? Why does the General "desperately" need my little Sammy? I know, but I can't tell you. Duh! That wouldn't be fun! Please review!_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: **_A/N: Sup peeps! How's it going? This chappy's probably going to be long. So bare with me. Thanks so much for reading and please review!_

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**Sam's POV-**

"Crap. Why am I in the General's house in," I trail off peering outside. "Holy. I'm in Kandahar." I finish starting to panic.

I reach over to the front door knob and viciously twist and tug it. Upon noticing the padlock, my eyes grow wide with fear.

'_Where is he?! Where is he?!'_

I quietly walk around the downstairs of the house. I find my suitcase careless deposited in the floor beside the spiral staircase. I open it grimacing as the hinges squeak. After rummaging in a special compartment, I find that my handgun is gone. He knew as well as I did. I remember that I had a Swiss Army knife in my jeans pocket and a mace wrapped up in one of my shirts in the suitcase. My knife is gone so I must've been thoroughly searched once I was out. I feel a hard object wrapped in the shirt that I packed. Holding my breath, I unwrap the shirt. My hands shake as I see the mace and the tiny beeping it is making. Then I spot the little red laser light and the smallest timer I've ever seen.

"Crap!" I whisper hearing the beeping increase.

Rushing around the downstairs of the grand house, I find a window that is slightly cracked open. I heave the heavy glass up another seven inches.

"Hope this isn't a big bomb." I say and throw the mace like a Frisbee out of the window.

As soon as the deadly piece of metal glides out of my hand I duck and cover my ears and head. A semi-loud explosion is heard and shakes the house slightly. Finally breathing for a minute, I let my body limply sprawl out across the floor trying to slow my heart and stop the pounding of blood in my ears. I soon hear someone tramping down the steps. I hold my breath and quickly think about my next move. Figuring it out, I play dead and plan an escape route. The footsteps are approaching faster and my heart starts to race.

'_I wonder if he has a gun.'_ I think for a moment. _'Doubt it, who carries a gun with him around his own house? Oh, the General.'_

"Braddock," a recognizable voice gruffly calls out. "Get in here."

I don't move more than two centimeters. I think I actually stopped breathing at one point. I just lay sprawled and motionless on the slightly soft carpet. If someone walked in, they'd probably think I'd: a) just been shot in the stomach b) just strangled or c) just passed out. Sadly, I don't think the General was buying any of those. He wanted to buy one thing; revenge. I barely heard him call out to me again before I heard something like a rifle sliding out of its' protective bag.

'_Man, why did I even get on that stupid plane?'_ I think to myself regretting my choice of leaving my beautiful fiancé behind in Toronto thinking I'd be safe as long as I would be in meetings with other men around me. _'Meetings in Ottawa. How could I have fallen for that?! He basically kidnapped me then drugged me and then flew me back to this H*** hole to do what? I have no idea, but it probably won't end well.'_

I can hear the General walking closer to me. I keep my eyes shut tightly and my body limp. The toe of his loafer connects with the side of my thigh. Hard. I still don't move. He works his way up my body kicking me as hard as he can so I'm actually being kicked across the carpet. The fibers of the carpet scrape against my skin burning it. I hear the General growl. I figure that he figures that I'm neither unconscious nor dead so he's just going to inflict more and more pain until I open my eyes. I feel something much harder than an angry foot connect with my body.

'_The rifle,'_ I realize. _'He's hitting me with the rifle!'_

He taps my stomach a few times with the barrel then swings it back. Suddenly the barrel rips my cheek open. Searing pain erupts. I feel my blood dripping down my face from the deep cut. If you've ever been pistol-whipped, let's just say being rifle-whipped is a lot worse; especially when it comes to a livid General who is excellent at swinging his rifle like a golf club. I try not to grimace. I try not to immediately press my hand on the open cut. I really try not to curl into a ball to protect myself. Yet I couldn't succeed and there was no second chance where you can try, try, again like Winnie the Pooh. I had one shot to maybe get myself out of this house and I blew it. If I had just been able to ignore the searing pain, and my burning skin, and my pounding heart, then maybe, just maybe I could've snuck out of the house when he wasn't looking and found a car that I could've driven to find a plane that I could fly back to Toronto. I was always pretty good at flying, but no. I blew it. I blew the whole thing right out of the water.

"I knew it. I knew it you stupid little cheater. I knew you'd blow it sooner or later." The General states laughing creepily.

Between you and me, my father is creepy. He lies, he cheats, he gambles, he gets beyond intoxicated, he physically assaults someone if they make him made, he kills without thinking if they're who he's supposed to kill or not, he pins all the blame on the people around him and he's stinking rich. He's a monster and he knows it. That's how he gains "respect" as he calls it. That respect is people fearing for their lives and their spouse's lives and their children's lives if they don't do _exactly_ what he wants. He a snake and cheats the government out of their money. He's a murderer. If drugs and sexual assault weren't the top two killers in the nation then he'd be on that top two. He kills innocent young men, young woman, children, sometimes because he rushes commands, sometimes because he doesn't care where the government tells him to fight, and sometimes he does it himself. Yeah, that's my father. Wonder why I never like seeing him?

"Get off the ground you (BLLEEEEPPPPP). Get. Off. The. Ground." He yells.

I slowly roll to my side that is not facing the General and find my knees underneath of me. Not fully trusting them, I place my left hand on the carpet and keep my right hand pressed against my bleeding cheek. The blood is starting to trickle in between my fingers and palm and I wonder how much damage he had actually done. The second thought that pops into my still groggy head is 'Where's mom" and "Where's Natalie?" I really hope that Nat is not anywhere near here. For once I wish that she's in Columbia or France or Australia, or Brazil, or even in Toronto with Spike. Anywhere but here. The General grabs my arm that is holding my cheek together and yanks me up. I feel my shoulder straining and ligaments pulling apart. I gather my feet beneath me as quickly as I can.

"Sit on the couch." He commands once he drags me into the living area.

I comply and sit, thankful that my shoulder isn't dislocated.

"Your name is David Ellison. You will be in JTF6. They are short on men and you will help them. We have a meeting at 01700. You will meet me here at 01445; it takes fifteen minutes to drive to the base. Your fatigues are in the bathroom on the left. There is rubbing alcohol in the third cabinet down from the center and paper towel next to sink. You already know where your suitcase is. Do whatever you need to so you look presentable. After all, you are an experienced soldier and my son. Get moving." The General states icily.

I stare at him like he has four heads. He wants me to fight again? Is he crazy? I got out of here because I had nearly killed myself over Matt. Now he wants me to fight again?

"I'm not going to fight." I say bluntly.

"Yes you are."

"No, I'm not. I will not fight." I say again pressing my point.

"Fine, your choice. Alpha, prepare to enter the home. Destroy her. Wait for my signal." He commands through his earpiece glancing up at me.

My eyes grow wide and all my pain has left me as I go completely numb. My Jules, he's going to kill my Jules. He must've already sent men there. They're outside. They're going to kill her! I think my heart stops.

"Three," he says. "Two,"

"**Nooooo! No! Hold! Hold!" **I yell.

"Alpha hold, Alpha hold." He commands grimly smiling at my panicked face. "What's it going to be son? You fight? Or she's dead?"

"I-I'll fight." I say breathing out heavily. "I'll fight. Just don't you dare get near her. Don't get within 300 yards of her or her house and I'll fight."

"Alpha, copy?" He waits for the response and removes the earpiece so I can hear their answer.

"Yes sir." They answer.

"300 yards. No closer or I'll kill you myself." The General says.

"Yes sir." They answer again. I think all these men are programed to say is "yes sir." It must get boring after a while.

"Good, you stay 300 yards away from her and her house at all times, don't you even think about shooting and I'll fight." I say relived I struck a rare deal and ensuring that my fiancé will stay alive and safe.

"You've got a deal son." He says glaring at me. "Get ready. We'll be eating late tonight." He says and points me to the bathroom down the hall on my left.

I reluctantly stand, grab my suitcase and walk into the bathroom locking the door behind me. He must've remodeled it since I was last here with Mom. It's a spacious room with gold trim around it, a few chandeliers, a large walk in shower, a crystal clear wall length mirror trimmed with etched gold framing on one side with a long granite countertop. A sparkling sink is placed in the dead center of granite with a shiny gold faucet that holds its head high like a proud horse yet elegantly dips its muzzle down at its rider's command. The tile floor gleams with the soft glow of the overhead crystal chandeliers. The toilet lives up to its name, the porcelain throne. Quite so. Everything is beautiful and I expect my Mother did all of this planning. As she planned most of the house designs and details. I set my suitcase down on the floor and begin looking for the rubbing alcohol that is apparently under the counter in the third cabinet from the center. I find it and some paper towels. I start to unscrew the cap when I wave of grogginess comes over me. I look at myself in the mirror. My face is panicked still, my complexion off and pale, and my whole body feels sandy and sweaty. I have hardly been outside yet.

'_Maybe a shower would make me feel better.'_ I think to myself.

I turn the handle of the shower to on so the water will be warm when I'm ready. I stare blankly at my fatigues that are hanging from a rack built into the wall. Sighing, I dig a few things out of my suitcase and place them where I need them to be. I find a towel already waiting for me by the shower. The water isn't quite warm enough yet. I double check the lock on the door and then try to find my phone, only to realize it too is gone. Luckily, there is gold trimmed clock hanging on the wall. I have about a half hour. Plenty of time. I strip off my clothes, slide the shower door back a little bit, and step inside closing the frosted glass door behind me. I let the warm water flow over my body and soothe my aching muscles and cleanse my cut cheek. My brain wakes up a little from the warmth.

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**The General's POV:**

I can't believe my stupid son would play dead and then have the audacity to talk back to me and tell me no. How could he? I raised him better than that. Way, better than that. At least he agreed to fight. It only took Alpha team nearly killing his fiancé. Maybe I can use her as a pawn. Since now I know that he only wants to keep her safe, perhaps I can just let's say kill her then still use her to make him do things for me. Oh how I wish I could, but team Alpha and I agreed that we won't get any closer to her or her house than 300 yards and I said I would kill them if they did. I'm sure they'd understand if I changed my mind though. No, that won't work. Sam will probably find some way to contact her at JTF6's camp and then he'd find out that I sent Alpha in to kill her, and then he'd try to find me and try to kill me and I need him to fight more than I want her dead. Phooey. My cell phone rings. Glancing at the caller ID I notice that it's my wife.

"Hello?"

"Hi, I was wondering what you were doing tonight." My wife asks.

"I have a base meeting. It starts at 01700. I should be home by 02400."

"It's going to run that late?"

"I have other business to attend to afterwards. I'll be home before 2. Bye." I say and hang up.

She is such a bother sometimes. Glancing at my watch it reads 01630. He should be getting done by now. I heard him running the shower and he hasn't shut it off yet. What does it matter though? Just as long as he gets himself in here by 01645 I don't really care. I need to polish my shoes up though. I trek up my grand spiraling staircase to my bedroom I share with my wife, find the shoe polish and iron so I can polish my black dress shoes and iron out my jacket.

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**Sam's POV:**

I finish washing and stay in the shower a second longer just relaxing. Taking a deep breath, I shut the water off, open the door and quickly grab the towel wrapping it around my shivering body. The air is a lot colder than the water, even with the heated room. I quickly dry off then wrap the towel around my waist while I brush my teeth and comb my hair out putting a little gel in it and spiking it up how I normally do it. I dress and cringingly tug on my fatigues. The General must've ironed these things every day 'cause they're as stiff as a new steel nail. At least they're clean. I check the time again and repack my suitcase. Gently easing the lock back, I push the door open when I'm fully dressed and packed. I flick the lights off before leaving the room. I hear the General walking down the stairs towards me. I swallow and brace myself.

"David, where are your shoes?" He asks forcefully.

I blink once then remember that I have a new name. Joy. "I didn't see,"

"Never mind. Here are some dress shoes. Your combat boots will be given to you at your camp as well as some more "relaxed" fatigues." He says.

"Oh," I respond realizing that these are the "dress" fatigues and not the "relaxed" ones that we actually fight in. Or the normal t-shirts and camo pants we wear around camp. I also get a pair of shorts of my choice to sleep in. I think I'll take the pants. It can get pretty cold in Kandahar and snowed the last winter I was here. Snow and sand don't mix.

"Bring your suitcase. You're moving in with JFT6 tonight Ellison. We're leaving now." He says and pushes me out of the door with my suitcase.

We walk to his gleaming limousine. He gets the front passenger seat and makes me sit in the back with some bozo of a security guard. My suitcase is placed in the trunk. We drive for about fifteen minutes and then stop as a low sprawling concrete, cement, cinderblock, brick mix, building comes beside us. The driver lets the General and I out under the breezeway except there was no breeze; only hot, sticky Kandahar air. I hate this place. The security guard carries my suitcase with him everywhere as he follows the General. The three of us come to a large meeting room similar to the briefing room we have at the Barn. The thought makes my heart hurt. We all take our seats and then I proceed to sit through the longest, most boring four hour meetings ever. 

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_A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Please review!_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: **_A/N: Hi pipsqueaks! What's up? So sorry this took so long to get up. Life's gotten busy especially being snowed in for a few days. I hear we (on the Atlantic coast of USA) might get another snowstorm next week. Don't take my word for it though. I listen to too much news sometimes and dates get mixed up in my head. So this chapter's going to be long, so sorry. I hope you like this! Please R&amp;R. Thanks!_

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**Sam's POV:**

Oh, my gosh! This is the _longest_ three hour meeting **ever!** I'm listening to terribly boring speakers blab on about who knows what then I have to state my new name while the General provides my background information, (not including the fact that I'm his son), my experience, credentials, etc. Halfway through, we've covered tactic plans, new camp arrangements, money, areas held by insurgents, money, new fatigues, money, free Wi-Fi in camps, money, and money. More than one physical fight broke out and needless to say shoes were whipped off and pistols were pulled out of coat pockets. The General thankfully call for an intermission. Some of the men tug their shoes back on and we file out of the conference room. Tension still hangs low in the air but I quickly exit desperately needing to use the restroom and get a drink of water. It has been a good six hours sense I had either. The General suddenly appears at my side and I flinch. The two Advil pills I had popped before entering the meeting have worn off and dull pain erupts all over my body, my fear of getting hit again isn't helping either. He just hands me a bottle of water and points his finger down the hall presumably to the restroom. I briefly make eye-contact with him and nod my head once, accepting the water. I break the seal of the bottle as I walk down the hall. My face scrunches up as I taste the water. It tastes…..strange; definitely not like the bottled water in Toronto.

"Guess I forgot how bad the water tastes here." I mutter while pushing the bathroom door open and entering.

Three minutes later I walk back into the hall. I briefly talk to some of the other lieutenants, Captains, Colonels, CO's and the executor of the conference. Someone grabs my forearm and yanks me backwards, plastering their hand over my mouth as they drag me into another adjacent hallway. Rolling my wide and panicked eyes backwards and to the side, I see that The General is the one dragging me away.

When he removes his hand from over my mouth I furiously spat; "What the heck?! What are you doing? Get off of me!"

"Don't talk to me like that." He says to me and slaps me across the face with such a force my head snaps to the side and I would've crashed to the ground if The General didn't have such a death grip on my arm.

He then throws my arm down out of his grip. I try to grab the nearby wall but I crash to the ground. Everything starts to hurt again.

"Get back in there." The General snarls and hauls me to my feet, pushing me towards the main hall.

I quickly gather my feet, senses, and nerves. I take another gulp of the water and quickly walk back into the meeting while the General kicks my ankles and calves if I don't walk fast enough. I sit quietly in pain for the rest of the meeting. A smile, even a fake one, rarely passes across my face. I'm beginning to feel the slightest bit sick to my stomach.

'_It's probably just from lack of food.'_ I think to myself. My eyes keep glazing over and I can't focus on what anyone is saying. _'What is happening to me?!'_ I wondered nearly panicked.

The meeting finally concludes. The General waits a few minutes for most of the officials to leave and then drags me behind him and out of the room. The bozo guard is waiting with my suitcase. I'm shoved into the back seat of the limo; the General sits up front and the guard beside me. We drive in the murky darkness, the only light coming from the limo head light until a small airport comes into view thirty-five minutes after we left the meeting. I'm nearly asleep when the limo jerks to a halt. I blink in the glaring airport lights and stumble out of the limo on command. My suitcase is thrown in a Humvee and I'm told to hop in the back.

"Ughhh," I grumble and haul myself into the backseat of the familiar Humvees I had grown up around.

"Shut up." The General growls at me. He leans back so he can talk to me quietly. "I know you're going to Skype your fiancé and probably email her too. Be aware that my men and I will be watching everything. Don't think you can get away with letting any clues slip about where you are or why you're here. If you do, my men are waiting for my command to go in your house and kill your fiancé. I will also kill your two roommates that are in your tent. Just thought I'd let you know. Oh, and if you even happen to mention your name is Samuel Braddock and not David Ellison I will kill all three of them. No exceptions. Do you understand me?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. We'll be arriving at JTF6's camp soon. Curtis will show you to your quarters. Remember what I said. You slip, they're dead." The General states threateningly.

"Yes sir." I feel like those men that were outside of my house that only said, 'Yes sir.' Boring!

We drive and the constant hum of the Humvee lulls me to near sleep, but my stomach still churns. A soldier stands beside me, his head poking out of the sunroof manning the machine gun attached to the roof as he scans for insurgent attacks. We drive _forever_ through the desert roads and sand. I don't know how long we had been driving when the soldier manning the gun gently kicks me out of sleep. I wake with a start and look around with bleary eyes. The man ducks down into the Humvee.

"You're at your camp, kid. Time change? Jet lag? Drink a lot of coffee tomorrow, it'll help. Be careful kid. It's real dangerous in these parts. Don't go anywhere without a fully loaded semi- or auto-matic gun, and another guy. Good luck. Maybe I'll see you around." The soldier smiles softly but looks at me with respect.

I guess I look really bad from everything that has happened today. I nod and try to smile. I quietly say, "Thanks, you too man." while the General is yelling at me. Groggily stumbling out of the Humvee, my suitcase is thrown at my head. I throw my hands up to grab it and nearly miss. Forty pounds thrown at you, no problem; catching it is a whole different ballgame. I stumble backwards from the weight and slam into the Humvee.

"Ughhh," I moan as my head hits the metal hard.

I stager and blink rapidly. My head is incredibly heavy and the whole world is spinning. I think I'm falling forwards to the ground; or maybe it's the sky. Gloved hands grab my shoulders and lean my back against the Humvee. The hands also take my suitcase from me. They tap my cheek and pull up my closed eyelids. Why won't anyone leave me alone? At least these hands are gentle and not pushing and pulling me a new direction every second. This fact peaks my curiosity to see who these hands belong to. I slowly pry open my eyes. I see the General standing a few feet away, glaring down on me. When I look straight ahead, all that is on the horizon is combat boots. Oh, I'm sitting down. When did that happen? I didn't notice that the hands were gently placed on the artery in my neck, assumedly checking my pulse, until they pull away. I follow the hands up to the arms, up to the neck, and finally see the face. It's the soldier on the Humvee that was standing next to me. He smiles again.

"Didn't think you'd be seeing me again so soon did you?" he asks laughing softly to himself.

I think I laughed back and agreed. All I can think about right now is the growing pain in my head. I think I'm just everyone's punching bag tonight. First the General's body guard, then the General, then the guard, then the General again. At least the soldier is gentle. He must've seen the torn skin and dark coloring on my cheek. I wish sometimes that the General was a father that actually cared about me. Someone that actually was happy that I didn't get into a fight and not encourage me to fight. Someone that loved me and didn't blame me for everything. Someone that didn't say I was stupid, an idiot, a loser, a piece of crap, a nobody, don't deserve to be loved, that I was a mistake, that he should've made Mom have an abortion, that I was never good enough, that I should've died instead of Sara. I wish Sarge was my father. He already cares about. He's always looking out for me and encouraging us. He always wants to protect us, and help us see the right from wrong if we need it. That's why I try not to see my father. He always finds new ways to put me down and my concrete and ballistic shields that go up when he's around are punctured right through with his new weapon.

'_Sarge, why did I go?! Why couldn't I have been killed instead of Sara? Jules would've found someone better than me. I wouldn't have killed Matt. Darren Kovacs wouldn't have died. Why? Why do I have to be here instead of 6 feet under like nearly everyone else that I love? Why Sarge? Why me?'_

The soldier lifts me to my feet but I cannot stand. I close my eyes and wish I was in bed with Jules discussing coffee flavors and baby names. He then places me into a wounded warrior carry and picks my suitcase off the ground. It's not the most comfortable ride, but the man has broad, muscled shoulders that provide a little more comfort. Needless to say, it definitely tops the last time I was in a wounded warrior carry.

_ I had been seventeen, enlisted, and patrolling near the border of Afghanistan and Pakistan. There were five of us walking five miles back to our camp. Dusk was drawing near. Everyone was laughing and joking around glad that we'd had a pretty easy day. The whole atmosphere exploded with an IED and rapid gunfire. We all ducked. Glancing around, the leader tried to make sure no one was hit and four of them scampered into cover. Only counting four, the leader, his name was Mike, knew who was missing._

"_Sam! Sam! Talk to me Sam!" he shouted through the com-links._

_I was lying on the side of the road, bullets smashing into my Kevlar vest. The IED had ripped through my abdominal muscles. I tried to stay conscious and I heard Mike yelling for me._

"_M-M-M-Mike," I struggled to say. I was taking more fire and more and more of the bullets were puncturing my vest and tearing through my body. Blood was steadily streaming out of me even more so as I tried to crawl towards Mike._

"_Sam! Where are you buddy? Hold on, I've got you on IR. I'm coming buddy." Mike said frantically loading his rifle with another clip of ammo that would easily fire three hundred rounds._

_ I moaned and still tried to crawl over to my team. Being 17, I wasn't legally supposed to be enlisted. But with my father being the General, things happened. Another bullet ripped through my shoulder and pinned me down. I wanted it to all go away. The pain, the bullets, the war; but I knew if it went away I'd be dead and that was exactly what I didn't want. I had to fight if I wanted to live. And fight I did. Two more bullets cut through the back of my thigh. I screamed. I wasn't scared of being shot; I was just scared of dying. I didn't want to die. The General said you were a failure if you died and I didn't want to be a failure. I was only 17 for goodness sake's and I did __**not**__ want to die. Not yet anyway._

"_Sam! Hold on buddy! I'm almost there. Stay with me Sam!" Mike yelled through the com-link. _

_ I barely heard him. I was losing too much blood. I was in the insurgents' scopes. They'd shoot until they knew I was more than dead. Mike couldn't possibly save me. Maybe he could get me out of here, but not keep me alive. I was swimming in a pool of my own blood. They must've gone through at least two hundred rounds of ammo on me by now. They didn't know that the corpse they were tearing up was a young boy only seventeen years old. They didn't know I was The General's son. They didn't know that I didn't want to be here. They only knew that I was a soldier of the opposing side and something to be used for target practice. I weighed my chances of surviving. It was close to nothing. I faintly heard Mike yelling and shots being fired off, probably from his gun. I closed my eyes to the world around me and my pain was blocked out. I felt the end nearing._

"_Sam! Buddy, c'mon! Stay with me Sam! Stay with me! C'mon buddy!" Mike yelled for the billionth time. _

_The sound of his footsteps and gunfire increased. I heard enemy fire cease. Two desperate frantic hands rolled me onto my back. They raced to my neck. I figured it was Mike next to me but I didn't have the strength to open my eyes. Even breathing hurt. My vest looked like Swiss cheese. All Mike needed was to feel my weakened heart beating and he held me together as best as he could and threw me into a wounded warrior carry for the very wounded warrior that I was._

"_We're almost there Sam. Stay with me, buddy. Ok?" he reassured._

_ His sprinting increased than slowed rapidly as he laid me down on the hard, dusty ground in front of our three other teammates. They hurried to pull out field bandages and tried to patch me up. It was pretty much hopeless. I had more holes in me than a pumice stone and had already lost way too much blood. There wasn't a bandage in the world big enough to cover the wound were the IED had ripped through. My teammates mumbled things to me and I slipped in and out of consciousness. While I was conscious though, I heard Mike talking to me, telling me it'd be ok and that he'd take care of me. As he jogged and sprinted the five mile back to camp with my other teammates he became more desperate as he was losing me. _

_ He would say things like, "I'm so sorry buddy. I should've protected you." And "How could I have left you? Please don't leave me Sam." And "I should've loved you like a son instead of screaming at you for not making your bunk this morning. I never should have left your side Sam. This is all my fault. I should've gotten to you sooner. I should've noticed them in the hills. I should've been hit with the IED. I should be bleeding out. Not you. Not you Sam. Just not you. I should've taken your place in line instead of being so cocky and wanting to stay out in front. My body should've been ripped to shreds by IED's and bullets. Not yours buddy. Not your young strong body. I'm so, so, sorry Sam. Please, forgive me! Please fight. Please fight Sam. Isn't that what I would've told you to do?"_

_I couldn't always hear what he was saying. Everything would look like the normal world then it would fuzz away until it was blurry and calm. I could feel myself dying. As much as I wanted to fight the overwhelming sleepiness, I simply couldn't. I officially dropped off when we were a mile and a half from camp. I think Mike felt it too._

"_Sam! Sam! Don't leave me Sam! Please! Please don't leave me now buddy! We're almost there Sam. Hang on for me." He stated softly sick with worry, guilt and all of the blood that still dripped through the bandages. His shoulders and more than half of his chest and back were covered in my blood. He could feel the vital substance seeping into his fatigues. "C'mon Sam. Stay with me buddy. Please, please stay with me." _

I woke up four days later in the camp hospital. Mike was sitting next to me and it looked like someone got their cord collection all tangled up and just threw it on top of me. I had every type of wire and tube hooked up to me and was so out of it, that I didn't realize I had a tube down my throat. Mike was relived and kept telling me how proud he was of me. A doctor came into remove the ventilator; refilled some IV's and blood bags. As you can tell, I pulled through. The General kept me in Afghanistan until I was healthy and strong enough to bench 50 pounds, run a mile in fifteen minutes and hit every target on a 300 target course perfectly in under eight minutes, before he let me fly back to the base in Afghanistan, then take a flight to Ottawa and become even healthier there. It took a while, but Mike was proud of me and I was proud of that.

The soldier carries me and my suitcase to my camp we are still 200 yards away from. I feel guilty and weak. I had actually needed this the last time and I almost feel like I'm abusing the meaning of this carry and perhaps the soldier's actions. I'm not injured….well not _that_ injured. Sure I'm a little cut up and bruised. Yeah, my head hurts like crap and I'm sick to my stomach but I'm fine. I want to know why the General insisted the Humvee be parked two hundred yards from the camp. I struggle to get down on my own two feet but the soldier just tightens his grip on my one arm and leg and whispers, "Stop struggling. If I put you down, he's going to hurt you. I've seen him kill somebody on this walk. I saw how he was treating you at that meeting and he'd be more than happy to take a shot or two at you. Lay limp against me, I'm not about to let him kill you."

I sigh and allow my body to lose its composure. I whisper one thing back. "Thanks for caring about me. Not many here do."

"I know; this is one of the most dangerous areas to be in K-bar. You're not going to be killed while I'm with you though."

"Thanks man."

"Put him down." The General gruffly shouts.

The soldier doesn't. He just stops and turns around to face my father.

"I said, put him down."

He hesitates again.

"Do it now you fool!" he yells.

"I'm sorry." He whispers to me and gently places me on my wobbling feet. The General nears both of us and my suitcase is placed in my hands. "Good luck kid. Watch your back."

I nod once then the General grabs my arm and shoves me forwards. I'm ten yards from the camp and can see the lights.

"Walk." Is the command.

I walk to camp in silence the General following close behind me. Before we stop next to the sentry outside of the gate, he pulls me to a halt.

"Remember Ellison; you slip even once, and they're all dead. That's on you."

I swallow and nod. Can I remember all of my fake information? How closely will the General be watching me? Very. I feel something near my heart flip and turn cold. I panic for a second but then remember what it is. It's the tag Jules gave me this afternoon. I had the tags the General gave me earlier today on the outside of my dress fatigues. I'm shown to my tent and briefly meet my roommates; Marcus and Howie. Later when my guide leaves they introduce themselves better to me. Marcus is a really great guy who cares so much about the men in his unit. He reminds me of Ed, always watching out for everyone. He was born in Montreal, Canada but is part American, part Italian, part Russian, and part Canadian. He has dark brown hair with deep green eyes and is strong, but not very bulky. He can speak Russian, French, Spanish, Arabic, Dari, and all of us can speak Pashto, the native language of the Kandahar province. Howie is Indian. His father is an excellent doctor in India. Howie will always make you smile even in the worst situations. His English is broken and his accent is quite hysterical. Howie and his mother moved to Canada and Howie enlisted so when his tour is up, his med school will be paid for by the Army. We all talk for a while and laugh. My stomach churns still and I'm still so sore from being kicked around by the General. I was given a pair of relaxed fatigues, a tan shirt and camo pants, my choice of shorts, and combat boots. I sit on my bed thinking about my Jules. Its 02130, about noon in Toronto. I decide to Skype Jules. The laptop boots up and Skype loads up.

Sam shouts at his roommates in Pashto. "ضوث وپ! ًمن ون زى فون!" ("Shut up! I'm on the phone!")

Marcus shouts back playfully. "حو ار عوو ثازذوڤ تو نوء بت؟" ("Who are you talking to lover boy?")

Sam yells back. "ضوت وب! ! مرض مع فىانصى!" ("Shut up! It's my fiancé!")

Howie whisper to Marcus. "بت كم دم نت بنت ا رىنڤ ً ىت" ("Bet he didn't put a ring on it.")

Sam yells back. "عص ً دد! ضوت وب حووىئ!" ("Shut up! Yes I did!")

"Sam? Who are you talking to? Where are you?" Jules says watching and hearing her fiancé yell some strange Arabic-like language.

Panic washes over Sam's face. If he tells her the slightest bit of information, she, Howie and Marcus are dead. He can't let them die!

"It's just my roommate, Jules. We're at the hotel." He answers.

"Oh, ok. Can you call me back tonight babe?"

"Yeah, I'll try sweetheart. I love you so much babe. Don't ever forget that Jules baby. OK? I love you to the ends of the earth and I always will."

"I love you to Sammy. I miss you."

"Oh, Jules. I miss you too sweetie. I'll try to call tonight. I love you so much Jules."

"Love you Sammy." She says and we both hang up.

I wipe the tears from my eyes and stand. She has no idea how much I misses her.

"So, David, how long have you been engaged?" Marcus asks.

"Huh? Oh, a few weeks. We've been dating for three years though."

"You two planning on getting married and having kids?" Howie asks.

"Yeah, in the spring, or summer. We'll have kids as soon as we have enough time too." I say smiling.

I grab my canteen off the small table beside me and drink a few sips of it. I suddenly feel very sick to my stomach. Before I know what is happening I start vomiting violently. Marcus yells for Howie to get a trash can or something and hurries to my side. He pats my back gently as I throw up on the mostly dirt floor.

"David? Buddy is everything ok?" he asks me when I don't stop throwing up.

Howie has returned with a trashcan and brings it to Marcus. I finally stop vomiting for a minute and helps me stumble over to my bed and sit down on the side of it while I turn green and grey again. This time I vomit in the trashcan though. Marcus hold the trashcan for me and wraps one arm around my back. Howie isn't sure what to make of me so he stands near us with cool rags and a blanket. Marcus helps me drink a sip of my water. It doesn't help and I throw it too. There is nothing left in my stomach to throw up so I'm left heaving. After a few minutes of that, I start to shake. Badly. Howie hands Marcus the blanket and Marcus wraps it around me. I'm so cold. My head becomes hard to hold up and Marcus lays me down in bed. Howie pulls the sheets over my shivering body. I'm just so tired.

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Marcus' POV:

I don't know what happened it him. One minute he was laughing and joking with us and the next nearly collapsed on the floor vomiting! I laid him down in the bed and Howie pulls the sheets over him. He's shivering like crazy. I just don't know what happened. It's 02230 and I sit next to David on the floor and watch him pass out in bed. Howie gives me nervous glances but soon crawls into his own bed. What happened? What would cause him to suddenly become so ill? Howie, the med student doesn't even know. Maybe he'll be better tomorrow. It's almost 02300 now. David's still passed out, and Howie's asleep. I guess I should get in bed too now. Luckily, my bed is right next to David's so I can watch his condition. I reluctantly crawl in my bed and glance at my motionless roommate and sigh.

'_God, please heal David. I don't know what's happening, but you do. Please help him. Amen.'_ I pray.

Feeling a little better that God has the situation under control, I drift off to sleep. Only five hours of sleep before we all have to get up tomorrow at 0400. Exactly one hour before the sun rises here. I hope it's a better day.

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_A/N: I'm soooo sorry this took so long to post! Thanks so much for reading! I hope you liked it! Please review._


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6:**_A/N: Hi peeps! I'm really sorry it's taken soooo long for this chapter to be posted. Warning~ it's a __**l – o – n – g **__chapter. Sorry. Hopefully you'll like it though. This is the beginning of the middle where it back tracks to that call in Chapter 1. Yeah, I'm sorry Sam! I love you; but you got to do what you got to do sometimes. Sorry. Please R&amp;R and maybe you won't be so mad/sad at me in the next few chapters. Oh, I'm going to say this "novel" is going to be between 12 &amp; 25\. I'll try to keep it under 25. So, yeah, please R&amp;R. Thanks!_

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**Marcus' POV:**

"Ughhh," I moan at Howie's alarm clock that is beeping furiously. I roll over so I can glance at our new roommate. "David? Buddy you awake?"

No response. Howie silences the alarm and starts to get dressed. I haul myself out of bed and stumble around trying to find my pants.

"حووى! تورن ذى لئت ون!" (Howie! Turn the light on!) I nearly shout. Howie fumbles around until he finds the lamp switch and flicks it on. My nerves have suddenly frayed and I feel out of control. I don't like it. _'Breathe Marcus; he didn't do anything to you. It's a new day.'_ "Aha!" I suddenly yelp triumphantly, spotting my camo pants crumpled at the end of my bed.

"I will see breakfast ready." Howie states in very broken English, leaving the tent.

He always has an accent but his English gets _really_ broken when he's tired. I've been bunking with him long enough to know what he means most of the time though. I quickly tug on my pants and gently shake David's shoulder.

"David? Buddy, it's time to get up."

He doesn't respond and that worries me. He doesn't moan or groan, roll over or open his eyes. In all honesty, I don't think he's breathing and my brain frantically concludes that God had taken him during the night.

"David?! Please wake up! Please!" I nearly shout close to tears, my voice is wavering with panic.

I do _**not **_want to tell my CO nor the General that my roommate has died in his bed during the first night he was here.

"Mmhnm," he moans softly.

"David? Buddy c'mon, talk to me!"

David slowly starts to open his eyes and blinks a few times at the soft glow of the lamp. His face is pale and grey; his eyes are barely open more than a slit.

"Hey, it's ok. It's ok." I try to soothe as panic washes over his face. "You're in JTF6 remember? We're in Kandahar buddy."

I can tell he's thinking about this information and trying to piece it all together in his head. His eyebrows furrow as he frowns obviously not pleased about his current predicament.

"Wh-where's Jules?" he asks.

"Jules? Who's Jules?" I'm the confused one now.

"Julianna Callaghan, my fiancé." He says as though this should be common information.

"Oh, she was the one you were talking to on Skype last night. Right? Why was she calling you 'Sam'?" I ask remembering last night's strange conversation.

"Yeah, I was talking to her last night."

"So why was she calling you Sam?" I push.

"I'd rather not," he starts but his face suddenly changes to that of an ill man.

"C'mon, it's ok." I murmur helping him sit up and handing him the trashcan. He coughs for a minute then they turn into wheezes, and then he throws up all of the water he had last night. I sit next to him on his bed and drape a blanket around his shivering shoulders. I truly don't have a clue what's wrong with him and he doesn't seem to be any better but God takes time. After all, He has all the time in the world. I try to give him sips of water but he turns his head away.

"David, you have to drink. You've been throwing up nearly all night and you're going to get severely dehydrated. You need to drink." I press as gently as my hard tone will allow.

"N-no. That water, tastes strange." He says in between vomiting and shaking.

"What? It's the same water we all get in our canteens. You're probably just not used to it, buddy. You used to live in Toronto, right?"

"How'd you know that?" He asks worriedly.

"I like to do some research on the newbies that join my unit." I say back smiling. "I'm sure the water in Toronto taste different that the water here. What do you expect? We're in the middle of a desert! But there are some months when the water tastes really bad. This month though, it's been fine."

David just nods once. He has stopped vomiting for now, but what he said about the water makes me curious. What if the water is making him sick? Is that possible? Wouldn't it make the rest of us sick too? Unless, it is just his water. But, no, the only reason that the water tastes bad here is from too much minerals. Maybe it's poison? No, how on earth would they keep poisoning his canteen when he's out of water? It would have to be someone really good and someone out to get David. Probably not the insurgents. They wouldn't waste their time poisoning an individual soldier's water, unless they had a personal grudge against them. I think they'd rather blow your head off. David jerks violently and startles me. His blood vessels and nerves must be having a spasm. I wrap the thick blanket even tighter around his shoulders and his eyes start to glaze over as he is being held sitting upright from my arm that's around his back. Howie walks back into the tent. I automatically sigh; feeling better that someone of a medical profession is here if I need it.

"Breakfast ready." He states then frowns as his eyes scan over David. "He is ill. He is very ill."

He walks over to us and David flinches when Howie's fingers gently press against the artery in his neck. After a minute, Howie shoots me a nervous look.

"His pulse too fast. I patrol today. You and David here. Service starts 0700, breakfast served till 0900." He says.

"Ok, thanks. I think I'll go to the service today if someone is with him. When do you have to patrol?"

"Don't know. Probably close to 01100. Maybe after lunch. Not sure." He replies. "You both eat."

"Yeah, c'mon David, we need to eat something. Hey, you want to go to the church service with me?" I ask.

He looks at me sarcastically as if saying, "Do I look like I can go to church today?"

"Oh, right, sorry. You still need to eat though."

"I'm not hungry." He says softly.

"David," I start.

"I'll just throw it up anyway, what's the point?" he growls at me.

"C'mon, please? You don't have to stay in the mess hall very long, just please come with me to eat something."

David sighs and tries to stand but nearly collapses onto the floor. I leap over and catch him before he hits the ground. While holding onto him, we try to slowly walk to get some better clothes on but he stumbles and drops to dead weight in my arms. Howie gives me that "Seriously?" look and helps me lift David into his bed again. My roommate's face is even more pale and drained than it was before.

"C'mon," Howie says tugging me away from David once I covered him back up with the sheets and extra blankets. "He's right, he should not eat yet. He needs IV's and a blood test. You need to eat. We can bring food back."

"Huh," I sigh knowing he is right. "Fine."

I finish my morning routine and reluctantly leave David sleeping off his exhaustion. While walking to the mess tent I cannot stop thinking about what David had said about the water. Could it have been poisoned and he was targeted? Why did his fiancé call him Sam? And why was he so confused this morning when he woke up? I can't take it any longer and spill my guts to Howie while we're eating in a secluded part of the mess tent.

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**Howie's POV:**

I listen as Marcus tells me about the water, and Julianna, and David's confusion. It doesn't really add up. I mean, I missed my fiancé when my tour started 3 years ago; but then I found out that she had been making out with my best friend and well, we broke off the engagement. The confusion? David had been throwing up nearly all night. Being ill like that plays with your memory. The water? I don't know. He could've been poisoned, or he might just be sick. No one will know until he has a blood test. If he _was_ poisoned then the question is, why him? Why not me or Marcus or Kyle, from the next tent over? Why him? Revenge? Random? Planned? What makes David so special? All of these questions roll over in my over and over until I'm almost seasick. Seasick in a desert. The wonders of the human brain. Marcus excuses himself from the table and heads back to the tent to rest before the service in two hours. He needs the rest though. I pick up my food tray and head over to another table where some of my buddies are.

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**Marcus' POV:**

I walk back into my tent with an apple, granola bar, and cup of coffee in my hands for David. I stop dead in my tracts when I take my first three steps inside and drop all of it.

"God, no! No, no, no, no! **No!** David! David, talk to me! Please! C'mon buddy, c'mon! **NOOOO!**" I sob, collapsing to my knees and then crawl over to my roommate shaking him.

David is laying face down and motionless on the ground. His canteen lies next to his limp hand and is leaking water from the removed cap. I grab his shoulders and try to wake him. I frantically roll him over onto his back and try to find a pulse. Tears stream down my face as I kneel next to David waiting for a pulse. I wait for what seems to be an eternity before a soft, weak beating in his neck meets my shaking fingers. I cry.

"Thank you God. Thank you so much. Thank you, thank you, thank you!" I am so grateful that God loves me.

Wiping my tears away with the back of my hand, I spot something around David's neck as it glistens. I see his dog-tags but that's not what it is. Another silver chain peeks up from underneath his shirt. I gently pull it out until a single tag pops out of the shirt. I leave the chain clasped around David's neck. Fingering the tag, I read the engraved names.

Julianna Callaghan &amp; Samuel Braddock

Wait, what? Julianna, that's the name of David's fiancé. Wait just a second. She had called him Sam last night! Do you think? Is David? Is Jules? Is David, Sam? I hold my head in my hands for a second. Inside my brain sounds like a swarm of angry bees. I flip the tag over before jumping to any more conclusions. I find an engraved portrait of a very beautiful woman. Above the portrait says, _'_Julianna'underneath of it reads, 'Sam, I love you so much. I can't wait until you get home. Pay attention in your meetings Sammy. Love~ Jules.'

"Oh my gosh! It's true!" I exclaim to myself. "David is Sam and Julianna is Jules! Well, that makes sense, Jules and Julianna, it's probably just nickname. There is no way you can ever get David Ellison out of Samuel Braddock. Why didn't he tell us who he really is? Maybe someone _is_ after him! Maybe someone _did_ poison him! I've got to get Howie, if David, I mean Sam's poisoned he's got to get to the hospital, now!"

Just as I'm about to flip the tent flap open, Howie comes sauntering on in. He too stops where I did upon seeing David, I mean Sam, on the floor.

"What happened." He insists.

"I-I think he's been poisoned."

"I need blood tests."

"I don't have blood tests! We're probably working with a limited time here Howie!"

"Get me some water, no, run and get an IV. Two, three, I don't know! We don't even know what he's been poisoned with if he's been poisoned at all!"

"Look, I'm like 99.99999% sure he's been poisoned. With what? I don't know. I'll tell you how I know later." I say quickly kneeling next to David, grrrr, Sam, and tuck the single tag back underneath his shirt.

For some reason, I don't think I should tell Howie yet. I need to talk to Dav- Sam before I talk to Howie. I jog out of the tent to find the medical tent or my CO. I spot the med tent first. I knock frantically on the door and nearly fall in as someone quickly opens the door.

"Marcus?" my CO asks.

"Oh, hi sir, I didn't know I'd be finding you here."

"What do you need son?"

"I need, well Howie needs three IV bags. Fast."

"What for?"

"My roommate has been poisoned. I need those IV's! Please sir!" I press.

"What do you mean poisoned? Are you sure?"

"I need those bags! Every second we waste arguing is a second we're losing him!"

"I don't know Marcus; I'll have to ask Madison, you know how he is."

"No, sir! You don't understand! He's going to die! Please, c'mon. I need them now! Do you want to explain to the General how his soldier is dead because you didn't want to give me three IV bags?!"

"Well, no,"

"Please! I'm begging you! Please!"

"Alright," he says and disappears for a second. He comes back to the door holding four IV bags with two needles and one connecting tube.

"Thank you, thank you so much sir!" I say grabbing the bags of fluid.

"Not a problem. Marcus? No one saw this ok? Hope we don't lose that soldier. Hurry along."

"Yes sir. Thank you, sir." I say and sprint back to my tent. I fling open the tent flaps and rush inside. "حووى! حووى!" (Howie! Howie!) I shout in Pashto then catch myself and translate into English.

Some people get suspicious if you talk too much in Pashto. Rumors start about befriending the enemy, becoming one of them.

"Howie! Howie! I got them! Staff Sargent Bradly gave me one more. Madison wasn't right at the door and it took me saying that he was dying and every second we were losing him, for him to give me the bags. He isn't – is he?" I rush, looking over Dav-Sam.

Howie had picked Sam up, laid him on his bed and taken his shirt off. All three tags had been swept around to the back of his neck so they were not seen. Only the two silver chains wrap around the front of his neck. Howie glances up at me, and sadly shakes his head, 'no'.

"No? What do you mean 'no'?! I've only been gone for what, two, three minutes? He couldn't have died, not in that short time, could he? Did he? God, please don't, why, no, no You couldn't have, please no!" I start to sob for the second time this morning.

"Marcus, calm down."

Once I can breathe for a minute, I look up at Howie with pained eyes needing to know the answer.

"He's not dead, buddy. Not just yet anyway."

"Thank you." I mutter relived to God, Howie and Sam. "Here are the bags." I say and thrust them into Howie's hands before I walk over to Sam.

I pick up Sam's limp hand and find it shockingly cold. A frown passes across my face; I drop his hand and press my hand into his forehead. It's burning up.

"Hey, Howie? Have you felt his forehead? He's burning up."

Howie walks over next to me and presses his hand into Sam's bare chest. "Mhmn." He grunts.

"He's got 103 degree fever. Way too hot. Heart's weak."

I bit my lip wondering what we can do to bring his temperature down.

"Get me cool rags. Lots. Not too cold, don't want shock."

I nod and rummage around near Howie's stuff and find about fifteen rags. I hurry out of the tent to find the water spigot. I run all fifteen rags underneath the cool water so they are dripping wet, then wring them out before jogging back into my tent.

"Here." I say thrusting them in Howie's waiting hands.

He takes them from me and carefully places them over Sam's chest, with one lying across his forehead. We wait, we wet more rags, we wait some more. His fever hasn't dropped at all but his skin doesn't feel too hot to the touch anymore. We do this for an hour and a half. Then it all changes. Howie decides to check Sam's temperature again with the thermometer. After it beeps, he looks at, looks away, and then suddenly looks at it again with widened eyes.

"Howie? What's wrong?" I ask.

"It's gone up. He's 104.6 degrees. It's not going down. I don't know what we can do." He answers gravely.

"Ok, yes, yes you do know what we can do. We can pray. We can always pray. God will hear us and take care of His child." I say.

Howie nods. He is standing on one side of Sam's bed, I on the other. I hold my hand out for Howie to take and he does. I rest my hand over top of Sam's heart just to make sure he doesn't die while I'm praying. All eyes are closed.

"God," I start not knowing what I'm going to say at first, and then the Holy Spirit guides me. "God we stand before You asking for Your mercy. One of Your children is gravely ill and we pray for his health to return. We cry out to You so that You may hear us and save our friend. Only You know what has happened, what is happening, and what will happen. We ask You to pour Your mercy out on S – David. Please heal my friend, our friend, Your child. I ask You to be with his fiancé and comfort her in these times where she does not know if her fiancé is dead or alive. Please surround this tent with Your presence and let Your love rain down on us like a waterfall. I ask this in Your Name. Amen."

"Amen." Howie agrees.

Christian or not, he knows this is just about our last hope. Glancing down at Sam, I witness a shiver rack through his body and small beads of moisture accumulating on his forehead. Cold sweats. He's so hot, he's cold. The human body is strange like that.

At 0700, Sam's laptop starts to jingle. The noise startles both Howie and me. I leap over to see what's going on and notice that someone is calling Sam through Skype. What's more is that the caller ID that pops up on the screen says, 'Jules'.

'_That's Sam's fiancé!'_ my brain screams. "Howie, answer the call."

"What?! And what am I supposed to say to her?"

"I don't know! Think of something! She'll want to know where S-David is. Um, just answer the call!"

"Ok, ok." Howie says and reluctantly answers the call. The woman on the other side of the camera is obviously startled when she sees a dark Indian man with jet black hair instead of her Sammy's handsome face and spiked dirty blonde hair.

"Sa – Who are you? Where's Sam?" she demands.

"It's ok. I'm - - -" He starts then frantically looks at me not knowing what to say. "وحات ام ئ تو صلى؟" (What am I to say?)

"رووممات، ور حىص روومات!" (Roommate, you're his roommate!) I say back.

"I'm his roommate. At hotel." He starts looking at me again.

"Oh, the one he was speaking to last night?" she asks.

"Yes, that's me!" he says.

"So where is he?"

"He's downstairs," Howie starts and looks at me again.

I'm counting back 9 hours and 30 minutes to see what time it is in Toronto so I can make Howie say something intelligent. Wait, doesn't she know Sam's here?

"He's uh, downstairs talking. Yeah, say that." I whisper to Howie.

"He's talking downstairs." He says to Jules.

"Oh, ok. Tell him that I said goodnight and tell him to be safe in Ottawa and on his flight back here on Tuesday."

Howie and I look quizzically at each other. Stay safe in Ottawa? Flight back to Toronto on Tuesday? She must be a little crazy or really forgetful.

"Will do, goodbye." Howie says smiling and clicks the 'end call' button on the screen. "That was weird."

"Yeah, she must've forgotten where he is." I say. Of course it's possible to forget something like that, but what she said really makes me wonder. Does she even know that Sam's in Kandahar?

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**Jules' POV:**

_'That was weird_,_'_ I think as I shut my laptop. Why would Sam still be talking to someone at 9:30 at night? Maybe it's the General. And since when do Indian men speak Arabic? That was really weird. And that guy seemed like he was talking to someone else in the room. I just wish that I could've seen Sam's face again. I miss him soooo much. It was good to see him at lunch time though. I wonder how those meetings are going. They're probably terribly boring. I can't imagine sitting in meetings all day with a father who isn't fond of you at all. My brain keeps replaying that Skype call. Where Sam's roommate was, didn't seem like they were in a hotel at all!

"Stop it Jules, you're just going to drive yourself crazy. You'll see him again in two days. I need to do something tomorrow." I say to myself. "But what?"

I try to stop thinking about the Skype call and my plans tomorrow. Maybe Boss will meet me for coffee. Or Ed? I bet Spike's going to be with Natalie and Wordy with Shelley. Oh, Ed needs to be with Sophie and Clark. Is Dean in Toronto? I don't think so. I make up my mind and decide to text Sarge.

'Hey, Sarge . . . sorry it's late, I was just wondering if you had any plans tomorrow. I was thinking we could meet for coffee if you weren't doing anything. Thanks.

-Jules'

I find Boss in my contacts and send the message to him. Quite frankly, I'm very nervous. Will he say yes? Will he say no? What will I do if he says 'yes'? What will I do if he says 'no'? I've gotten myself so worked up about this that I'm actually pacing around my lonely bedroom. If only Sam were here. I wouldn't have any of these problems if he was here with me. My phone vibrates and I jump. I run over to the nightstand and cautiously pick up my phone. I read the message displayed on the front screen.

'Hi, Jules; I'd love to have coffee with you. 9 o'clock sound good?

-Greg'

"Yay!" I squeal, and then realize how childish that sounds. Oh, well, what does it matter? I'm in a house all by myself; I should be able to do what I want to do, when I want to do it.

'Yep, see you at Timmy's?' I text back realizing we didn't know where we were going.

'Sounds good, see you there.' He texts back.

"What should I wear?" I laugh at my girly-ness.

I sigh and climb into my bed. I'm beat. I have an awfully hard time falling asleep though. My bed is so empty. It's just my little self, taking up a fourth of the queen-sized mattress. I miss Sam's strong body that snuggles up against mine to help me fall asleep after a rough call. I need him.

'_Two day,'_ I keep telling myself. _ 'Two days.'_

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**Howie's POV:**

That call was very strange. I guess she is really forgetful. I wonder if she has a sister. I definitely know why David is engaged to this woman. She is beautiful. Much prettier than my ex-fiancé. I glance back at Marcus who is again sitting beside David. I understand he's worried, but there's not much we can do about it. You've got to go with the flow. I hear someone calling my name and I turn around to see Kyle, poking his head through my tent flap.

"It's time to go. We're patrolling together today, buddy. You ready?"

I nod and start to walk towards him. "Marcus? Don't worry too much. If you need anything, call someone." I say and leave the tent with Kyle.

I thought we'd be patrolling closer to 01000 then at 0750 but oh well. I follow Kyle to the group that is gathering near the entrance of our camp. Everyone has their helmets on weapons ready. We try to keep the atmosphere light. No one wants to go out knowing they have a 50/50 chance of not coming back to camp that night. We all joke around with each other and discuss what stupid things the insurgents are doing and the daily news. It's all pretty much commonplace. Not too many new things happened between yesterday and today. A few people ask me about the new soldier the General sent in. I answer casually and don't tell anyone how sick my roommate actually could be. When they ask why they haven't seen him yet, I just say he had a long flight over here, dealing with massive jet lag and getting the hang of the time change. They laugh and agree. It took all of us a few weeks to get used to the time change and jet lag when we first got here so they understand. At last, a Sargent calls for attention. It's dead silent. He speaks, and tells each group the area they are supposed to cover for today. Then we set out. Kyle and I get along pretty well. He's a few years older than me, but definitely not any more mature. At least he's fun-loving and easy going. It's good to be paired with him. We don't get to talk much anymore. Nine hours of patrolling, then back to camp for dinner. Let's get it started.

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**Marcus' POV:**

I'm still worried about Sam, despite what Howie said. I sit next to him nearly all day. Occasionally getting up to go to the bathroom, wet the rags again, and sit at my desk writing a letter to no one in particular. I just need to get my thoughts out on paper so I can try to make sense of them. The day drags on and its 01500 before Sam even starts to move at all. Of course I immediately fly to his side. He opens his eyes and looks a little better. His fever has gone down to 102.3. I've overjoyed. He does start to cough but there is nothing in his stomach at all. His face is still pale and grey, his eyes still glazed, his body still weak but the fever is down and he has had fluids dripping into his body for a good eight and a half hours and he's only gone through two IV's though. A man in a different uniform suddenly barges into the tent and demands the other two bags back. It's not Madison and I don't know who it is. He starts yelling at me, telling me it would've been better if I had just let David die instead of trying to save him. Sam is barely hanging onto consciousness but throws in his two cents saying to just let him have what he wants. He's too weak to say otherwise and I give in. I shove the IV's in his hand and hope they burst. The man walks out of tent like nothing happened at all.

"Jeez, what a jerk. Wonder what he stepped on this morning." I exclaim. "How're you doing Sam?" I ask focusing my attention towards him.

Panic washes over his face as he struggles to say, "How do you know my name?"

"When you were lying on the floor, I thought you had died and you scared the crap out of me by the way, I saw another tag, pulled it out and read it. I pieced it all together. Your fiancé Skyped you this morning, FYI. I made Howie talk to her and tell her that he was your roommate and that you were downstairs in the hotel talking. She said to tell you goodnight, be safe in Ottawa, and have a safe flight back to Toronto on Tuesday. She must've forgotten you were here."

"You said that I was in the hotel right?" he asks still panicked.

"Yeah, why doesn't she remember where you are?" I press.

"Marcus, I need you to do something for me." He says.

"Sure what is it?"

"Треба да вите писмо за мене. " (I need you to write a letter for me.) He says in Serbian.

"What?" I ask not understanding a word he said.

"Sapete svizzero?" (Do you know Swiss?) He asks in Italian.

"No," I say back in Italian.

"Как насчет португальцев." (How about Portuguese?) Sam asks in Russian.

"Нет, простите, никогда не узнал его." (No, sorry, never learned it.) I say back in Russian.

"Que diriez-coréen?" (What about Korean?) He asks in French.

"Nein, nie abholen konnte auf sie. " (Nope, could never pick up on it.) I answer in German.

"Česká? " (Czech?) He asks in Czech.

I shake my head no again.

"Polski? Nederlands? Македонски?" (Polish? Dutch? Macedonian?) He asks each in its own language.

"ماذا تقول؟" (What are you saying?) I ask in Arabic.

"ما اللغات هل تعرف؟" (What languages do you know?) Sam asks me weakly in Arabic.

"Русский, Немецкий, французский, дари, пушту, итальянский," (Russian, German, French, Dari, Pashto, Italian ;) I say in Russian.

"Bagaimana dengan Melayu?" (How about Malay?) He asks me in Malay.

"No, sorry, Kiswahili?" (No, sorry, Swahili?) I ask in Swahili.

"Jedan afrički jezik nikada nisam saznao?" (The one African language I never learned. Croatian?) He says in Croatian.

"Ayisyen?" (Haitian?) I ask in Haitian Creole.

"Cymraeg? Română? Español?!" (Welsh, Romanian? Spanish?!) He asks in Welsh, Romanian and Spanish.

"Ха! Украина!" (Ha! Ukraine!) I laugh in Russian.

"Это страна. Ирландский?" (That's a country. Irish?) He asks me in back in Russian.

"Australian!" I say in an Australian accent.

"Das ist Englisch Sie tauchen-Scheibe" (That's English you dip-wad.) He spats in German. Български?" (Bulgarian?) He asks nearly all of his strength gone in Bulgarian.

"Български! Знам това!" (Bulgarian! I know that!) I finally shout in Bulgarian.

"Добре, ние отидохме само през половината от Европа, Близкия изток и Африка." (Good, we only went through half of Europe, the Middle East and Africa.) Sam says tiredly in Bulgarian.

"Така че това, което ви е необходимо да направя?" (So what do you need me to do?) I ask.

"Имам нужда от теб, за да напишете писмо." (I need you to write a letter.) Sam says struggling to sit up.

"Ok, задръжте за секунда приятел. Нека ме намери някаква хартия. На какъв език искаш ли писано във?" (Ok, hold on a second buddy. Let me find some paper. What language do you want it written in?) I ask finding a pen and paper.

"Може ли да се превежда от български на Dari или пущу?" (Can you translate Bulgarian into Dari or Pashto?) He asks me.

"Да." (Yes.) I respond.

As Sam slowly tells me what to write in Bulgarian, I translate it to Pashto. I'm just focused on how to write the words that I don't pay any attention to what I'm actually writing. At the end though, Sam says to fold it up and place it somewhere in Howie's things so he won't find it for at least five days. I have no idea why he wants it that way, but I just follow orders. Howie comes back late at night with Kyle thrown over his shoulder. I don't ask what happened as Howie hurries over to the med tent with Kyle. Howie doesn't look hurt, a few cuts. Kyle's blood is all over him though. I'm thinking IED. My Indian friend does not return back to our tent until 02400. Sam is asleep but I'm waiting. I ask him if he wants to tell me what happened. At first, he shakes his head 'no' but a few minutes later he's sobbing out the story. It was in fact an IED. But not one, three of them. Howie was jogging to catch up to Kyle after taking a drink who was 50 feet ahead of him when the first IED detonated. Both of them ducked. Then two more went off as Howie leaped for cover. When the smoke had cleared, Howie saw Kyle lying motionless in the road. He had a pulse and they were only two miles away from camp, but one of the IED's shrapnel had ripped through Kyle's chest leaving a hole the size of a baseball beside his heart. Howie got him back here as fast as he could and the surgeons operated on him. They had finished the surgery and sent Howie back to our tent to sleep. They don't know if Kyle will pull through the night.

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**Howie's POV:**

I can't believe what happened. I mean, I've heard of soldiers getting blown to smithereens from IEDs but I'd never seen it happen nor thought it'd ever happen to me or one of my buddies. Kyle and I have been close ever since we'd been in boot camp together. He and I would look out for each other like brothers. Today I watched Kyle be blown up and bleed out. Even though I got him back here and even though he pulled through surgery, the surgeons don't even know if he will actually survive. After I told Marcus what happened I was exhausted and emotionally overwhelmed. I now lay in my bed tears silently rolling down my face. I don't know who, but someone had made me take a shower at the OR corridor but it still feels like Kyle's blood is all over me. Marcus is sleeping now, I think. David was asleep when I first came in. I just can't believe it. Kyle has been such a great friend. We've helped each other unconditionally, all the time. I try to sleep and I guess I do for an hour or two before I hear a small knock on the board attached to the tent flap used for a door knocker. I sit up in bed, wipe my eyes again and watch as two figures wearily drag themselves into my tent. They make their way over to my bed that I'm already out of.

"Howie? It's Madison and Bradley." SSgt. Bradley's voice obviously gives them away.

"I'm here." I answer softly. I briefly glance at my alarm clock. It reads 0230.

"Do you have a lamp in here son?" SSgt. Bradley asks.

"I do, but I don't wish to wake Marcus." I say.

"No, sokay, I'm up. I'm awake buddy." Marcus says groggily rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

He sits up and starts to get out of his bed so he can walk over to mine. He stands by my bed as I flick the light on.

"Howie," Madison starts then pauses as he looks at SSgt Bradley. "Howie, Kyle has passed."

I stare with unbelieving eyes at the doctor then burst into inconsolable tears. I throw my head into my knees that I've been hugging closely to my chest. I'm not aware as Madison says, "I'm so sorry Howie. I know how much he meant to you, buddy." I don't hear Marcus sobbing and Madison crying himself, helplessly trying to console Marcus. I don't notice as SSgt. Bradley sits on the side of my bed next to me and wraps his strong arms around my shaking body.

"Come here, son. I know buddy. I know how much it hurts, Howie. Kyle was my teammate too. I miss him too. I'm sorry you had to be with him and watch as he was dying. I'm so sorry Howie."

His arms wrap around me, rocking me. I can't feel anything but the overwhelming pain and grief. I just don't know how it could've happened to Kyle. Such a great guy like Kyle. After a good seven minutes of sobbing, even SSgt Bradley has tears rolling down his face; we all tried to stay composed and professional.

"What did he say before," Marcus starts but stops unable to finish his sentence.

"I was with him. He wanted me to give you this Howie and follow the instructions." Madison states as he hands me an unsealed envelope that definitely had more than one piece of paper in it. "He wanted me to tell you_ 'thank you for trying to save his life and being such a good friend.'_ He was only subconscious when he said this, but he said to _'always keep the barrel pointed at the enemy and only march forwards.'_ I don't know what it means but he said you would."

"I do." I say knowing exactly what Kyle was telling me.

Marcus and Madison discuss final arrangements and such as I'm still being held in Staff Sargent Bradley's arms while fingering the envelope Kyle addressed to me. I miss him so much. I don't want to pull out the papers but part of me is curious, the other part is terrified. Marcus and Madison are quietly talking in the corner and I hear parts of their whispered conversations.

"What are you going to do with his body until Tuesday?" Marcus asks.

"We'll do what we can here. There will probably be a memorial service later on today. I'm so sorry Marcus, I didn't know him well."

"How bad was the wound?"

"Shrapnel had cut through a large chunk of flesh leaving a deep exposed wound next to his heart. There's nothing we could've done to save him. Not even at an extremely advanced hospital could they have done something with the extensive blood loss. I'm really sorry Marcus. I really am. I hope Howie will fight through this."

"He will. We'll get through this together."

"Ok, well I've got to go. I'll talk to SSgt Bradley about a memorial service later this morning. I'm really sorry buddy."

"Yeah, I'll talk to you later. Thanks for doing all you could."

"That's my job. It's just, hard to watch a friend die and you, the doctor, can't fix him or save him. I'll talk to you later. Bye." Madison says and quietly leaves the tent.

I'm so exhausted. I think SSgt Bradley has laid me down in bed. Kyle's papers have been taken from me and placed on the night stand. Before I know it, I'm dead asleep.

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**Staff Sargent Bradley's POV:**

I can't believe it. I just can't. It's so senseless. Why should Kyle die while those murderous insurgents keep slaughtering their own people! I try to comfort Howie through his pain and grief. My close friend was shot dead right in front of me one time. Then one of my roommates hung himself after his brother had been killed by insurgents. It's hard on soldiers it's hard CO's, it's hard on everyone when a fellow soldier dies. Whether it is from insurgents or self-intent, it takes everyone down a few notches when a teammate dies. Kyle will be no exception. The kid was almost done his second tour which would've been his last for a while. His wife is expecting again and he needed to help with his other two little girls. He was a great guy, always had time for a laugh and always took time to brighten someone's day. I'm not sure if he was a Christian or not, but I sure hope he was. Not only do I have my own grief to deal with, I have to help Howie, Marcus, the rest of the camp and now I have to plan a memorial service. Marcus is sitting on the side of his bed with his head in his hands, crying and praying.

"Hey buddy." I say sitting next to Marcus and gently patting his back. "Is that uh, the soldier we were talking about the other day?" I ask trying to divert his attention.

Marcus glances up at me then behind him before saying, "Yeah, that's him."

I stand and walk over to the soldier lying motionless in his bed. I frown and feel for a pulse. "He doesn't look good Marcus."

"I know. He only had two of the four IV's 'cause somebody came in here and demanded the other two back. He hasn't gotten much better."

I tug the sheets off the soldier's sweaty yet clammy body. Even in the dim light, I can see beads of sweat forming on his bare chest but his hands are ice cold. I feel a very high fever rising on his forehead. I gently pull open his eyelids. I don't get a response. I worriedly tap my soldier's cheek; still no response.

"Marcus, he's unconscious. His heart's weak and he has a high fever."

"Huh," he sighs. "I've been trying to keep it down but his heart's just been getting weaker and weaker. I can't keep him from slipping unconscious."

"I know, just try to keep his fever down. I won't make any of you patrol for the next few days. Not until he's better and you and Howie are mostly emotionally stable. I'll see you tomorrow morning; well I guess it's later _this_ morning ok? Try to keep it together son. I'm always here if you want to talk Marcus, you know that right?"

"Yeah, I know sir. Thank you."

"Not a problem. I'll see you later son."

"Sir?" He asks as I'm outside. I stop and turn around as Marcus stops his jogs out of his tent near me. "Was, was it really that bad? I mean, was there really nothing you could've done to save him?"

I sigh and place both of my hands on Marcus' shoulders. "I'm sorry Marcus. There really wasn't anything we could've done to save him. Nothing at all."

"I wish, I wish I could've been there with him."

"No son, you really don't. I was sitting next to him when he passed. You didn't want to be there. I didn't really want to be there but I need to be there for my men. That's my job. I don't think Kyle would've wanted you to watch him suffer. He wasn't in pain but he knew he was going to die. He asked me if Howie or anyone else was in the room when he woke up from surgery. He was relieved when I said no. Do you really want your last memory of Kyle to be of a young man, a husband, with his heart bleeding out through the stitches lying in a bed with concern only for his wife, his girls, his teammates and his unit, knowing that he's going to die? Is that what you want to remember him by? He had no business dying at 29 for God's sake!" I nearly shout. I realize why Marcus is staring at me in horror. "Sorry, I didn't mean to use the Lord's name in vain. It just slipped out in the heat of my anger. I'm sorry Marcus. Forgive me God."

Marcus stares at me with hurt eyes. Now he thinks that I take pity on him because of his beliefs.

"Marcus, you know I don't," I start as Marcus spins around and starts to run back into his tent. I see the tears dripping down his face. "Marcus! Son, come here!" I plea as the tent flap glides shut.

Marcus is already inside probably madder than Hell itself at me. I sigh, take one last glance at the tent before I turn and walk towards my tent. I sure hope today doesn't get any worse cause I don't know how it could. Kyle has passed leaving his wife and soon-to-be three children behind, Howie is desperately grieving, Marcus is furious at me, I'm furious at me, and that soldier General Braddock sent over is unconscious and as Marcus thinks, has been poisoned. I flop down on the side of my bed and try not to think. It doesn't work. I close my eyes. All I see is Kyle's eyes shutting and his heart monitor flat-line, Howie sobbing, Marcus' hurt face, and my whole unit. I quickly open my eyes not wanting to see any more of the terrifying pictures then I already have. I know I have to something for Kyle later on this morning. I suppose 0800 will work. I'll have all patrol teams go out afterwards. I sit down at my desk and think of what to write for my little speech.

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**Marcus' POV:**

I run back into the tent and fling myself onto my bed silently sobbing. I thought SSgt. Bradley cared about everyone and didn't discriminate. I thought he would understand. I thought he loved God as much as I did. I thought wrong. It was all just a big façade. A big, lying façade to make himself look better in front of the General so he could just pretend around everyone so they would like him and listen. How could he? How could he lie to me like that?! How could he have been so deceiving! Why did I think he was actually like that? He just wants to stay alive like the rest of us and pretend to grieve. Why did I ever think that a human cared for me here. This is Hell on Earth. In fact, if I was a non-believer and I had a choice to spend eternity in Hell (like I would've anyway) or stay here I'd much rather go to Hell. There's only so many people you can kill in the world before you too are killed. I know God cares about me, and I know He loves me so much, but it still hurts when someone you care about has betrayed you. I get my brain together and roll over to face Sam. SSgt. Bradley had pulled the sheets off of him and did not recover.

'_Maybe it's for the best that he doesn't have sheets on him.'_ I think.

Whether I'm a fan of SSgt Bradley right now or not, he's right about one thing: Sam doesn't look good. He doesn't look good, he doesn't feel good (not to me and not to himself), and being unconscious doesn't really help. I sigh again and try to sleep for the next hour. It's going to be a long day.

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**SSgt Bradley's POV:**

"Men, and women," I say nearly forgetting that there are a good amount of women in this unit. "I have brought you together this morning to deliver some, bad, news. Kyle Morris, 29, has passed." I wait for the sharp breaths, faint whisperings, and choked sobs to quiet before I continue.

"Yesterday Kyle and his partner Howie were patrolling the area fifteen miles east and on their return trip three IED's detonated. Howie was unharmed for the most part but Kyle was not spared from severe, life-threatening injuries. Howie did all he could and got Kyle back here as fast as he could. The surgeons operated and tried to stop the bleeding and close the wound, but it had been too severe. At 0223 this morning, Kyle took his last breath and left this Earth. We will miss him greatly; we all know what a phenomenal friend he was, and how kind he always treated everyone. We should all remember the good times we had with him and not relish in the tragedy. Each day, the sun will rise, but it is up to you whether you decide to follow it into a new day or hide under the covers waiting for darkness to come again. Live in the moment. *'Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.'* (quote from _Ferris Bueller's Day Off_ **best movie EVER!**) What I'm trying to say is, I know this is hard, but try to have a good day. Please keep the Morris family in prayer and you know, I'm always available if you want to talk about something ok? Oh, the first patrol groups will depart in about a half hour. Check the boards to see if you're out today. Ok, you are dismissed." I finish and try to breathe.

My eyes are stinging with tears and a lump the size of Everest is in my throat. I quickly turn and walk back to my tent before anyone can ask me questions or tell me to eat. I don't want to eat. Every time I try, I'm nauseous and feel like I'm going to pass out. Maybe I'll eat lunch. It's only four hours away. Before I'm at my tent, I hear soft footsteps behind me. I stop and find Marcus helping that new soldier limp back to their tent. The kid looks terrible. Both kids look terrible. The new one's chest is heaving and even though his eyes are glazed over, tears are still at the corner. Marcus looks at me wanting love, wanting comfort, then his face changes to anger. He turns back to the new soldier and whispers something in his ear before they start walking again. I sniffle as they disappear into their tent, the soldier stumbling more than once on his journey. I turn and enter my tent. While sitting at my desk, my brain replays the phone call I had to make to Mrs. Morris.

"Ahhhhh!" I scream when my brain won't stop. I don't want to hear it again! I don't want to hear the pain and utter despair in her voice! I don't want to hear the little girls in the background asking their mother what is happening and why is she sobbing! I don't want to hear _**anything!**_ I throw my head down so it will hit my wooden desk very hard. I slightly feel the impact before the world turns fuzzy, then black, then nothing.

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**Marcus' POV:**

I drag myself and Sam back into our tent. I help him sit down on his bed as he starts sobbing, then choking. I grab his canteen and help him drink.

"Ahh!" I shout in frustration.

'_That water is poisoned you idiot!'_ my brain shouts at me. I shake my head 'no'. I, personally, had refilled Sam's canteen with bottled water from the mess tent after I found him unconscious on the floor yesterday. So, it's fine now. Good. Sam shakes. I don't know if he's in pain, grieving, or just really sick but he trembles and sobs like crazy.

"Hey, hey, buddy. Sam." I say quietly making sure Howie is asleep again.

Sam doesn't stop sobbing and his trembling becomes worse, almost as if he were having a seizure.

"Sam, look at me. Its ok, its ok, just breathe buddy. Just breathe Sam. Are you in pain?" I ask when he is breathing again and his sobs are quieter.

He nods his head 'yes' and I wonder why he's in pain. Is it emotional or physical? I don't have to wonder much longer as Sam starts rattling off names through his sobs.

"D-Darren, Jules, my little Jules, L-Lou, C-Ca-Cameron, A-Adam, M-M-Ma-Matt, S-Sa-Sa-Sara!"

I only know who one of these people are and that's Jules. The rest of the names are drowned out by his sobs. I wonder though, what does Jules have to do with these people. I quiet Sam down and he starts either fall asleep or lose consciousness as I lay him down in bed. A few minutes later, the tent is silent. Howie and Sam are sleeping and I don't know what to do. I decide to sit down at my desk and write my thoughts out in a letter to no one in particular again. I explain everything I can about Kyle, my conversation with SSgt Bradley, Sam's condition, all of it. I stop close to noon to see what's for lunch. I do not notice the figure standing out of my sight by my tent. I do not notice him enter. When I come back with some food for Howie, Sam and myself, I do not notice the figure slipping out of the other side of my tent or that my letter papers that I had left on my desk were slightly moved or that Sam's canteen was sitting in a different position with drops of liquid slowly trickling down the side. I _**do**_ notice when I'm halfway through my lunch that Sam is starting to wake. I also notice the repetitive footsteps outside my tent. I write them off though and focus on Sam, helping him sit up and eat a little before I give him a few more sips of his water. A loud knock sounds on the wooden board attached to the tent flap used as a door knocker/bell. It startles me and Sam looks around honestly terrified. I stand and walk over to the flap but it flies open before I reach it. A large man steps inside carefully surveying the room. He sizes me up then cuts a hateful eye at Sam daring him to talk. Sam doesn't.

"Is there something I can do for you sir?" I ask.

"Yes, you and, David Ellison are to be on patrol in ten minutes." He says gruffly.

"What? Staff Sargent Bradley said we'd all have a few days off."

"Doesn't matter kid. Never heard of no 'Staff Sargent Bradley.' We run this joint, not you and not him."

"Excuse me, but it is illegal for anyone under a Staff Sargent Bradley to override his commands." I state.

"Orders are from General Braddock. Get moving kid." He says and shoves a piece of paper in my face. He cuts another mean eye at Sam before he leaves.

"I'm sorry Sam. We've got to patrol buddy. We have to be out there. We're leaving in ten." I say.

Sam's face is ghostly white. I don't know how all the color in someone's face can drain in 2.7 seconds but I guess it can. He stumbles to his feet and I help him get dressed. We hurry out of the tent to get in group. A lieutenant calls out our names and area just as we arrive. I catch it though and write it down. When we're dismissed, Sam insists he walk on his own until we are alone. I let him but he was grateful for my help when we were alone. I can't wait. Five hours of patrolling a highly dangerous area. My favorite.

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**Jules' POV:**

"This has been great Sarge. Thank you so much for coming." I say as Sarge and I have just finished brunch at Timmy's.

"It was a pleasure Jules. How are you holding up without Sam here?" he asks taking a sip of decaf coffee.

"Well, it's really hard. I miss him all the time. The house is so quiet, the bed is so-" I stop. I was seriously going to tell my Sargent, more like my father, how I feel when I'm in bed.

"Empty?" he suggests.

I blush and nod. "Yeah, it's really empty." I admit. "Then I think, he'll be home tomorrow! But still, that's twenty-four hours away from now."

"I know, has he been able to talk to you?"

"Yeah, he Skyped me Saturday at lunch then at night, his roommate answered. Said he was downstairs talking. His roommate was talking some strange Arabic language but then again, so was Sam when I talked to him." I say then watch as Sarge's face clouds. "Sarge? What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I was just wondering, do you know what type of Arabic language it was?" he asks.

"No. I don't know Arabic. Is it important?"

"No, no, I'm sure it's not. You'll be glad when you see him tomorrow though right?"

"Absolutely."

"Alright, well, thanks for inviting me Jules. I'll see you and Sam tomorrow ok?"

"Yeah, he might not be with me though. He said something about what flight the General puts him on."

"I know. See you tomorrow."

"Bye." I say and watch him leave. I stay for a few more minutes before standing and leaving myself.

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**Marcus' POV:**

Thank goodness it's already 01545. I'm glad we're almost done but it's taken a toll on Sam. He's been exhausted but I've given him plenty to drink.

"C'mon buddy. Time to start heading back." The huge Kandahar sun is starting to set in the west.

We come across a fairly decent size grove of trees. We stop and rest under them for some much needed shade. As we walk a little further into the grove, someone yells, "**BOMB!**" There is a huge explosion and rush of heat as I'm propelled backwards and pushed down into the sand a good three hundred feet away from where I was, knocking me unconscious.

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**Sam's POV:**

I hear someone yell, "**BOMB!**" a split-second before it detonates. I'm thrown backwards into the trunk of a large tree unconscious upon impact.

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**Mike's POV:**

Ughhh. I spit the sand out of my mouth and take a sip of water. My head is pounding from the blast but I ran far enough away from it that I wasn't injured. Those evil little insurgents. I check my radio for signal. It just crackles and when I take it off, it falls apart in my hands.

"Whoops! Well, that won't work."

I know someone else is in this grove. I heard them. I just don't know who they are. I stand shakily and start to walk to the huge tree in the center of the outside ring of the grove. A soldier lies still at the base of the tree. He's Canadian. Good. I try to find a pulse and a weak one surfaces. The soldier is limp as I peel him off of the tree and ground, see if his radio is working, it isn't, and gently pull his helmet off.

"Oh my gosh." I gasp when the helmet is off of the soldier's head. "Sam? Sam?!" This just got personal.

I sit on my knees and position Sam's body so his back is resting on my thighs. His head lays on my stomach. I look down at him; at his limp body, at his closed eyes, at his matted hair, at his pale and cut face.

"Sam, buddy what are you doing here? Why are you here again?" I stop when I notice the quasi-healed gash on his pale, lifeless cheek. "What did he do to you Sam?" I demand.

Sam starts to moan and slightly opens his eyes. He blinks a few times not realizing who I am. A light-switch turns on.

"M-M-Mike?" he asks me just as he had done nine years ago when he was dying on the side of the road.

"It's me Sam. Why ar-" I stop as Sam breaks into tears. I turn him around so he's on his knees facing me. He sobs uncontrollably as I gather him into an embrace. Sam's body heaves as he cries and slips down in my arms. I lay my head on his shoulder blade. "It's ok Sam. You're with me now. It's going to be ok. He's not going to hurt you now." I murmur.

Sam finally stops sobbing and looks up at me with eyes of a seventeen-year-old and says, "Mike I wish I was yours."

That alone is enough to break your heart. Sam's been through Hell and been dragged back through it more than anyone would want to imagine. He starts to sway on his knees and I gather him in my arms to lay him down on my thighs again. I brush my fingers through his matted hair knowing where all of the scars on his scalp are. He looks up at me, his eyes pleading for me to take him back to my unit.

"Sam, what did he do to you?" I ask upon seeing the gash on his cheek again.

"Um,"

"What did he do to you buddy?!"

"Rifle-whipped." He says quietly not making eye-contact with me.

"Pardon?" I ask implying for him to speak louder.

"Rifle-whipped." He says louder his gaze still not meeting mine.

"He rifle-whipped you Sam? With what?" I ask disbelief, sorrow and anger creeping into my voice.

"I don't know."

"Sam,"

"I really don't know Mike; I was playing dead and just hoping he'd leave me alone for once."

"Buddy, how long have you been here?"

"Since Friday, well Saturday afternoon here."

"He took you from Toronto?"

"My team had a three day weekend and told me I had to come to meetings in Ottawa. I got on the plane and woke up in his house in Kandahar."

"Why didn't,"

"He's going kill her, Mike. He has men outside of our house ready if I make a mistake. They almost did when I refused to fight." Sam weakly says.

"What's her name?" I ask.

"S-David! David, buddy! Where are you?!" someone yells in the distance.

"That your buddy?" I ask picking up both chains that are around his neck. I read the one and it says 'David Ellison' and a whole bunch of other stuff about 'David Ellison.' "Did he do this?"

Sam nods weakly. His eyes start to close.

"Stay with me Sam." I read the other tag. It has Sam's name on it and Julianna Callaghan's name. I look at the portrait and note on the back. "Jules" I say.

"Fiancé," he says pain in his eyes.

"Ok, stay with me Sam. It's ok buddy. C'mon Sam." He jerks violently as his eyes start to roll backwards.

"M-mike, keep her safe." Sam mumbles as his eyes drop shut and his head lolls to the side.

"Sam! Sam, I will buddy. I will." My yelling must've lead Sam's buddy over to me.

"Ahem," he says.

"Your radio work? Call back to your CO." I demand.

"Do you know S-David?" he asks.

"Yeah, call your CO will you? He needs to be checked out after that blast. We all do."

"How?"

I roll my eyes and say, "We were in the same unit nine years ago. Happy?"

"No, what's your name?" he asks.

"Mike, and yours?"

"Marcus."

"Good, now will you please call your CO?"

"Why can't you call yours?"

"Marcus! Call your CO." I command.

"Yes sir." Marcus says and tries to call back to his CO. "What's your unit?"

"JTF1. Staff Sargent."

"Oh, how'd you two meet?"

"It's a long story."

"We have time?"

"Have you gotten through yet?" I ask.

"No sir, not yet sir." Marcus says.

I move my hand across Sam's pale face down to his neck. His pulse is weaker. "C'mon buddy. Stay with me Sam." I mutter.

I almost lost him nine years ago and I will not lose him now. I rest my head on his and find two long cuts on the tops of both of Sam's hands. Knives. Sam gives a weak cough and struggles to breathe. He gasps for air. His heart slows rapidly getting ready to stop any second.

"Sam! Sam no! NO! No buddy!" I shout hysterically, lifting Sam to his knees facing me and shaking his limp body.

Marcus stares at me then finally reaches his CO and starts talking.

"S-S-Sa-Sam-Saaaammmm!" I wail.

What can I do to make him want to fight? What can I do? I get an idea. I know it's cruel but it's all I've got right now. I cringe and slap Sam across the face. Hard. My hand tingles as his head snaps to the right and leaves a red handprint across his cheek. Sam's head drops lower and lower as my eyes fill with tears. Marcus stares at me in disbelief and despair.

"Sam," I whisper.

He gasps sharply and again starts to cough. I grab my canteen and pour drops of water into his mouth. He gags and struggles to open his eyes. Marcus smiles widely.

"Welcome back Sam. Sorry 'bout that buddy." I say as he feebly touches his cheek. "I just figured that,"

"It's ok. Th-thanks Mike."

I tend to Sam, laying him back down on my thighs as Marcus is getting read the riot act by his CO.

"Sir, we were told to go. No, I don't know who it was. Well, we're – can you just –" Marcus looks over at me.

I motion for him to come over to me and give me the radio.

"This is Staff Sargent Michael Laurence, who is this? Ok, Staff Sargent Bradley, Marcus is here with me. There was a bomb, yes it detonated, no we weren't hurt too badly. What? Who's David? Oh, sorry, yes he's with me. Um, he's ok, for now." I cover the mike and hiss at Marcus, "Who sent you out to patrol?"

"They said General Braddock's orders."

"General Braddock," I say back into the radio cringing at the name. "Yes, we'll try to get back to your camp. Yes, thank you. Bye."

I hand the radio back to Marcus and give Sam some more water.

"What did his father do to him?" I ask knowing if his father has had time to rifle-whip and cut him then he's likely done more damage. When Marcus stares blankly at me I shout, "What did his father do to him!"

Marcus flinches, Sam pales.

"I'm sorry sir, I don't know. I don't know what he did to Sam!"

"Doesn't matter; let's get you two back to JTF6 ok? C'mon Sam, let's go buddy." I say standing, laying Sam over my shoulder. It's more comfortable than a wounded warrior carry.

His body is light. I pick up his helmet and we all start walking back to JTF6. Marcus tries to make small talk with me but I'm getting flashbacks of nine years ago. Sam falls limp against me.

"Braddock!" I shout but he's already out cold.

I sigh and we both keep walking towards the camp. We arrive at 02035. It's pitch-black in some areas. I ease Sam off of my shoulder and I place him on the ground holding him as he gathers his feet underneath of them. Marcus is waiting a few feet away for him so they can walk back together but Sam won't leave my side.

"M-mike, don't leave me. Please don't leave me here alone. You know he's - "

"Sam, I'm sorry buddy; but I have to leave you here. You'll be ok Sammy. God's with you and I'm with you now." I wrap my arms around Sam as he weakly hugs me back. I lay the side of my cheek on the top of his head then take a step backwards keeping my hands on his shoulders, looking at him. I bring him into an embrace, kiss the top of his head and quietly say, "I love you son."

"I love you too Mike." Sam replies genuinely meaning his words.

That's how it is with me and Sam. I'm 14 years older than he is; he's like my son and I'm like his father. Sam has always been trying to find a father since his is so….so…. awful. I do love Sam like a son. We watch out for each other. Always. That's what a father is supposed to do. Not cut them open with knives or rifle-whip them or slap them or burn them or see how quickly they can dodge a bullet aimed at their head! He's supposed to love them, unconditionally. I feel terrible for slapping Sam, but I know that's what his father did, well does, and Sam always fights through it. I figured if he always fights through it whenever his father slapped him, then he'd fight through death if I slapped him. My theory proved right and I'm very glad that it did too. I watch as Sam limps off with Marcus to their tent. I have to briefly talk to SSgt Bradley about this little "incident" as he called it then call JTF1. I guess I'll crash here tonight.

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**Marcus' POV:**

I settle Sam in his bed and briefly tell a frantic Howie what happened. Howie and Sam both drift to sleep but I stay up writing down the events of the day still trying to sort them out. First of all, I want to know the story behind Mike and Sam but I want to know why Mike was shouting 'what did his father do to him?!' I don't know who Sam's father is for starters and what would he ever do to Sam? It's all very confusing and I fall asleep with my arms crossed underneath my head on my desk. Sometime between 0100 and 0200 someone comes in the tent, I vaguely feel them pick me up and lay me down in bed. Then between 0200 and 0240 I faintly hear someone shuffling paper and a cap being screwed on. I'm too exhausted to rouse myself though.

At 0400, Howie's alarm clock buzzes for the fifth time and I do **not** want to get up. I roll over the same time Howie does to quiet his alarm. I look at my roommates. Howie is exhausted, I'm confused and Sam lies completely motionless in bed. I'm just wondering how I got _in_ my bed. Howie and I try to get dressed and we're halfway through when a small knock disturbs the peace. I say, "Come in." and Mike strolls in the tent not really noticing that Howie and I are only half dressed. He nods to Howie, glances at me and walks straight over to Sam. He kneels next to Sam's bed and holds Sam's cold hands in his own. I think he closes his eyes and prays before he stands, places his hand against Sam's forehead then frowns as he feels Sam's pulse in his neck.

"I'm leaving." He says to me, still glancing at Sam.

"Why so fast?" I ask.

"I have JTF1 to manage. Stay safe Marcus." He says and walks towards the tent flaps; he stops before he reaches them though and turns around gazing at Sam. "I – S – Stay safe Sammy." He whispers then leaves.

I hear a running Humvee dart off into the blackness. I don't know how this Tuesday will end, but I know how it will start: with prayer. Howie and I leave to grab some breakfast but at the mess tent we were dragged into a rip-tide of questions. Some about yesterday and some about 'David' in general. Howie and I are forced into answering them but when we finally drag ourselves back into our tent Sam's awake.

"Where were you guys?" he asks struggling to sit up.

I help him and give him a sip of water. "_We_ were eating breakfast; something you haven't done in three days."

Sam doesn't try to argue back with me. He's too weak. A knock on the door disturbs us, again. Three very intoxicated lieutenants I sort of recognize come stumbling in laughing like fools. I look at Howie and roll my eyes.

"Hear ye, hear ye." One of them says rolling on the floor with laughter.

"Friends, Romans, Countryman lend me your ear. I come to bury Caesar not to praise him," the second one says before collapsing onto the floor tied in bouts of laughter.

"No, we haven't come to bury Caesar, we've come to bury Kyle!" the last one says.

They all scream with laughter. Before I know what's happening, Howie has a Remmy 700 loaded with the safety flicked off pointed directly at the third lieutenant's head. The tent falls silent.

"You take that back. You take that back now or your head will end up in Kabul! You drunken fools! **Take it back and get your sorry, drunk a** out of my tent before I'm obligated to feel sorry for blowing all three of your heads off! GET OUT!"** Howie yells in an Indian accent so thick you could strangle someone in it.

The three lieutenants look at Howie, then the 700, the back to Howie whose finger is hovering over the trigger, before they pick themselves off of the floor and run out of our tent. I breathe and Sam flops back down in bed. Howie doesn't lower the rifle though.

"Howie," I say to my friend worry catching my voice.

"I'm putting it down." He says, removing the clip and turning safety back on. He props it back up against the wall and sits on the side of his bed. "I'm going to take a walk." He says and leaves.

That leaves just me and Sam in the tent together. "How're you doing Sam?"

"I feel like crap."

"I can tell. You look like it too." I say trying to smile.

"Gee, thanks, I definitely needed those words of encouragement." He says rolling his eyes at me.

"Not a problem. Hey, Mike left earlier this morning. He came in to say goodbye to you, but you were unconscious."

"What? What time was it?" he asks.

"I think it was around 0430."

Sam doesn't answer me. He avoids my gaze and tries to roll over in bed but finds he simply isn't strong enough.

"I'm s-"

"I don't want to hear your guilt-ridden apologizes. I just want to,"

"You just want to what?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Sa-David!"

"I don't want to talk about it." He says sitting up, swinging his legs over the side of his bed and thrusting himself to his feet.

I try to grab for him as he sways and starts to fall to the ground but he pushes me away from him. He miraculously catches himself, shoves his feet in his boots and stumbles out of the tent.

"S-David?!" I call after him. Once I poke my head out of the flap, I don't see him anywhere.

"All call, all call. I need everyone in tent number 12 through number 35 including the occupants of #12 and 35 to please pack everything up and come with all of your belongings to the front gate. We are switching to a different camp closer to the base. The other half of you will be moved within the next few days. So everyone in tent #12-35 including 12 and 35 please come to the front gate in ten minutes. We will leave you behind if you are not there in ten minutes. Thank you." A voice states over the intercom.

Howie and I look at each other. We're number 24. We both sigh and pack everything that belongs to us, up.

"What about David?" Howie asks.

"I've got to find him. I'll be back." I say folding my letters up and placing them into my bag. I glance around the room and see nothing else that is mine. I dart out of the tent frantically trying to find Sam.

"S-David! David!" I yell.

I fear that he is lying unconscious somewhere and will not hear me calling for him. I run through the camp searching for him. Near tent 63 I find him bleeding out of his mouth, slumped up against rock that is somewhat secluded from the normal range of vision.

"David?! What happened?" I ask kneeling next to him. He's barely conscious but up close, I see that his lip is just split open. Thank goodness his lungs aren't punctured. "C'mon buddy, did you hear the all call? We're switching camps, going somewhere closer to the base. There we go." I say as I lift Sam to his feet. "Did three very drunk lieutenants come after you Sam?"

He just nods his head weakly as he tries to keep up with me. This is taking too long! We're supposed to be front gate in three minutes and we're only at tent 48! I grab Sam and throw him into a wounded warrior carry sticking to the backside of the tents where I can run. We reach our tent and find Howie waiting outside with everyone's stuff all packed up.

"Thanks man." I say grabbing my stuff and Sam's.

I leave Sam on my back and Howie and I run towards the gate. I make Sam jump off and wipe the blood off of his lip before we're in the middle of the crowd. No one really notices that we're here so it doesn't really matter. SSgt Bradley is helping us into tanks and Humvee's. A few other men are helping with our bags as well. I'm assigned to a small Humvee with Howie and four other men. The General places Sam on a large Humvee then climbs in himself. We take off driving. I'm only left to worry as Sam is separated from Howie and me. Even with the top off, the Humvee gets hot. I can see the oversized Humvee that Sam's in a few vehicles behind us. I hope he's faring ok. We continue to drive for hours. I check my watch; the last time we stopped was five hours ago. It's 01603 and apparently we're close to the new camp. A sudden cloud of dust and sand is forming ahead of us.

"Sandstorm! Put the top on!" the driver shouts.

Looking behind me, I see the other passengers scrambling to get the tops on the Humvees. The huge cloud of sand is getting closer.

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**Sam's POV:**

Did I ever mention how much I hate riding in a metal beetle for like seven hours with my father that absolutely hates my guts? Yeah, it doesn't get much better as I feel even sicker no matter how much water I'm drinking. I hear the word 'sandstorm' and everyone tries to get the top on the Humvee. I sit in my seat feeling nauseous and in pain. My head is killing me, my heart is sore, just everything hurts. In the commotion, I suddenly find the General standing over me with a metal baseball bat in his hands. I only have time to think of two things.

'_Jules! I love you so much babe!' _and _'Where'd he get a baseball bat?'_ before he raises it into a hitting position and swings it. I know nothing more after the searing pain erupts for a split-second in my head.

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**The General's POV:**

My son is so stupid. Just as we were being engulfed by the sandstorm I knocked him unconscious with my trusty baseball bat. Our Humvee top couldn't be screwed on before the storm was upon us. My son fell off of the back of the Humvee and I knew what needed to be done. I hop out with my sunglasses over my eyes and a few other sand protectant objects on to keep my procession moving. I wave on my Humvees, tanks and even the dumb Hearse/Humvee thing that stupid kid that died is in. Why Bradley didn't just burn his body, I don't know! My drivers are even stupid and seem to think I mean 'stop'. So I have to be very clear and keep them moving. Occasionally, through the sand I'll see a scrap of camo and I'll smile. All of the vehicles have driven forward one last Humvee stops beside me. Curtis rolls down the window.

"You ready sir?"

"Almost, drive forward." I command.

The sandstorm stops just as abruptly as it came and I walk forward a few steps. I look down and kneel beside my son. Blood is seeping onto the sand out of his chest. His eyes are closed, his heart is dead. The moment is bitter-sweet. I've lived for the day I see my son dead, but I wonder how I can break the news to my wife. I place my hand on his neck. Feeling nothing, I move it down to his chest. I feel the cracked and broken ribs in my son's chest that punctured his heart killing him, among other things. I feel no heart beating, no lungs breathing.

'_Is this what I really wanted? Did I really want my only son dead?'_ I glance at the corpse in front of me.

'_Yes, I really wanted it.'_ I decide. "See what happens when you don't follow orders son?"

Curtis then joins me.

"Open the backseat door." I command.

I lift my dead son and carry the body to the Humvee and place it in the backseat. I glance one more time at the body with one more doubt running through my mind. What about his fiancé? Curtis drives me to the base; it takes ten minutes to arrive. We stop at the coroner's office. I tell the doctor what happened (from my point of view of course) and of course, my son is pronounced dead. It is written on a death certificate and is signed. I'm quite proud of myself to tell you the truth. Curtis drives me to my house on the base so I can eat dinner and take a shower. I relax until 01700. Then I pick up the phone and dial a number.

"Hello? Sargent Gregory Parker? This is General Braddock."

"Hello, what do you need sir?" Greg answers the telephone at the SRU headquarters at 0730 am on Tuesday morning.

I'm calling about an officer of yours." I say trying to be pleasant.

"Sam?" Greg asks. I hate it when people are so cavalier with his name.

"Yes, Samuel Braddock." I say stressing my son's actual name.

"Is his flight going to be late?"

No, his flight will not be arriving late." I state.

"So, what's the problem General?"

"My son is dead."

"Excuse me?" Greg asks.

"You heard me correctly Sargent Parker. My son is dead." I say trying to sound upset but I think it comes off more icily than woefully.

There is silence on the other end. The wonderful sound of silence.

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_A/N: Ok, so that was stressful right? Yeah, I be stressin'. Ok, ignore that. I'm soooo sorry it took me so long to get this chapter posted. It's actually the longest chapter I've ever written for any of my eleven books. Ca-razy! Please tell me what you think! I'm open to suggestions! Thank you so much for reading and please review!_


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: **_A/N: Sup peeps! What's goin' on? Don't you love it when you get like four inches of snow in the end of March? Yeah, it would've been better if we had like a foot, but no, four inches is like the limit around here. Grrrr. Oh well….that's the weather for you! I've decided that when I'm 18, or just after I'm 18, I'm either going to go to Canada and go to Toronto, Winnipeg, Churchill, and maybe Montreal or Quebec, or I'm going to backpack through Europe with my father, or mother. If you have future plans, you should tell me! I'd love to hear what you guys plan or dream of doing! Here it is, chapter 7._

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Toronto, ON Canada: 0700

**Ed's POV:**

Back into the wonderful world of keeping the peace and defending our streets from low-life gangbangers, trigger-happy's, and insane explosive devices. In other words, back to work. I'm not going to say that I don't like my job, no, not by any means; it was just so nice to have three days off, _alone_ with Sophie, Clark and Izzy (who has finally learned how to sleep, wait for it, at night!) But, I also want to see my team and get back into the routine. Shift starts in a half hour but Jules is already here. I guess Sam didn't fly in last night. I think I heard Sam say that his flight might be late.

"Ed, have you seen Sam?" Jules asks me. We're the only two members of Team One at the Barn, Greg had to make a coffee run.

"Jules, you're standing right by the door. It's not like he's going to magically float in the room without you seeing him."

"Ughh, why are you so literal! I know, I know, I'm just so,"

"Excited?" I suggest.

"Yeah, maybe a little nervous too."

"Why? Sam's flown before, if anything, he could just drive here."

"I know, I just, I don't know."

"Obviously. Why don't you get dressed? Greg'll be here in a few minutes with some more coffee; not that you need any more." I say laughing. I don't think I've ever seen Jules so, jumpy before. She glares at me then glances at the door one more time before picking her bag up off the ground and heading towards her dressing room.

"I'll be back. Let me know if,"

"Yeah, yeah, I will Jules."

"Promise?" she calls.

"Promise!" Women. They're so picky, but I can't say I don't love it. "Hey, Greg!" I greet as he walks up the stairs to the second floor, where we are.

"Hey Eddie, I brought more coffee." He says lifting up a plastic grocery bag.

"Good, just don't give Jules any." I say laughing at the thought of Jules having more coffee.

"Why? Did she drink SRU out of their coffee supply?" He says also laughing.

"No, not that I'm aware of. She's just been really jumpy, you know like excited but nervous."

"What? That doesn't sound like her. I mean, I expect her to be excited to see Sam, but not nervous." He says, but I hear worry creeping into his voice too.

"Is there something I should know about Greg? Is Sam like, afraid of being on a plane or something?"

"No, no he's fine on planes. He lived all over the world Eddie. How'd you think they got from England to Russia to Turkey, to Brazil? Drove a car? Across the water? No, he's fine on planes."

"Oh, so why's everyone worried about Sam then?" I ask still not seeing Greg's point.

"I don't know Eddie. I guess it's just because he wasn't here with Jules over the weekend, and he wasn't visiting family, he was in meetings. I mean, I don't know. It's just not what we expected I guess."

"I thought his father said he should go to those meetings." I ask even more confused now. Spike saunters on in with Wordy at his heals. They both wave to us and go to get dressed.

"He did, but I think Sam was forced into going."

"Greg, he's 26. His father should not be able to strong-arm him into doing anything he doesn't want to. Sam's not a kid anymore." I exclaim. None of this is making sense.

"I know Eddie, but his father is the General of the entire Canadian Army. I'm sure Sam thought that if he refused to go, his father would blow his head off or something. They're not the best of friends." Greg tries to tell me calmly.

"Oh, he still should've been able to get out of it if you ask me."

"If I ask you what?" Spike asks walking over to us.

"Nothing," I reply. "Briefing starts in five." I say glancing at my watch.

"Hey, Spike? Can you put this away for me?" Greg asks handing him the bag.

"Sure thing Boss." Spike answers and skitters off to put the coffee away.

Jules steps out of her dressing room, then finds me. "Is he here yet?" she asks nervously.

"No, I would've told you, remember?"

"I know, I just, oh I haven't seen him in like forever!"

"Alright," Greg says but then is interrupted by Winnie.

"Sarge? There's a call for you on line 2."

"Ok," he says and picks the phone up out of its cradle on the wall answering it. "Hello? What do you need sir?"

He pauses as he listens and I wonder who Greg could be calling 'sir'.

"Sam?" he asks. I look back at Wordy, Spike and Jules hearing Sam's name. "Is his flight going to be arriving late?" Greg asks. "So, what's the problem General?"

What?! The General? Why's the General calling?!

"Excuse me?" Greg asks his eyes growing wide and almost frightened. He places the phone back into the wall cradle very slowly. When he turns around again, the whole team is gathered beside me.

"Greg what's wrong?" I ask.

He blinks a few times then tries to find words. A few seconds pass and Jules looks up at me scared. I place my hand on her shoulder.

Greg finally shakes his head 'no' slowly and says, "Sam's dead." With pain, sorrow and disbelief embedded in his voice.

Jules collapses next to me screaming and sobbing, "No" over and over.

Spike breaks into tears, as do Wordy, Greg and I. No, how could Sam be dead? No, this just isn't happening. They've got the wrong number. They've got the wrong Sam. They have to. I kneel down next to Jules and try to comfort my "little sister" through her grieving. Tears drip down my face and I can hear Winnie crying at the desk. All I hear are the sobbed screams that come from everyone, they reverberate off of every surface, it's too much! Ragged and gasping breaths draw my attention back to Jules. She's hyperventilating, her eyes are glazing over.

"Jules! Breathe Jules! C'mon you've got to breathe Jules!" I shout grabbing her shoulders and shaking her.

Her eyes drop shut as she slumps to the floor. In the now dead silent HQ, her heads hits the floor with a sickening dull thud. Everyone glances up through their teary eyes to see Jules lying unconscious on the floor. It just doesn't seem possible! How could Sam have died while he was in meetings?!

"Eddie, is she breathing?" Greg asks me worry protruding in his tearful voice.

I hold up my index finger signaling for him to wait a second as my ear still lies on Jules' chest listening to her heart and lungs.

"She's barely breathing. Her heart's strong though." I answer tears still dripping out of my eyes.

I look up at my grieving team. Wordy's holding Spike on his feet as they both cry, Winnie is holding her head in her hands sobbing so hard she had to take her microphone off, Greg looks like he'd fall over if someone breathed on him, and now, now we have to deal with the fact that Sam is dead!

"I'm going to find a cot to lay her down on." I say softly. "C'mon Jules."

I wrap both of her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist; holding her like I used to hold Clark when he was tired. Her head lies on my right shoulder as I support her, with one arm around her back and the other underneath of her. I carry her to the supply room where I find a cot. I wiggle one free from the rest, flip it over right side up, and lay Jules down on it. She doesn't move. I sigh, find a blanket and drape it over her. I leave the light on and lock the door once I've exited. I don't want her waking up then trying to kill herself or something irrational like that. I find the rest of my team and Winnie sitting in the briefing room. Coffee sits untouched on the table and a box of tissues is in front of every person. I take my seat and we all just stare at each other, Winnie is sitting in Jules' spot, but the one empty chair screams at all of us.

"How could this happen?" Spike asks quietly.

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Kandahar, KAN Afghanistan: 01730

**The General's POV:**

That ME was highly annoying. Trying to argue with what _I_ said about _my_ son's death. That chunk of Euros will keep him happy for quite some time though. I sit in my limo as Curtis drives me to my house. What to tell Jaqueline? Should I walk up to her and just say it, or tactfully hint around at it, or have her guess? I'm still not sure as I open the door of my limo and walk up the steps into the same house I was in with my son on Saturday evening. The little idiot blew up two very expensive potted plants with his mace bomb. What? You think _**I**_ planted a bomb on his mace? No, come on. I'm too elevated for those childish activities. Petty things those maces are. Why would I waste my time on strapping a miniature bomb onto a mace he would use to kill _**me!**_ I don't need bombs to protect myself. I have guns. I just can't believe that someone as smart as _you_ would think _I _would do something like that! Come on, really? I fumble with my house key in the diminishing light. Hearing the _click,_ I push the heavy dark oak door open.

"Samm-" my wife shouts excitedly as I open the door.

She stops when she sees me. I'm quite offended you know. My wife is happier to see my son, than she is her husband. What's up with that? I mean, hey, I'm still a good-looking guy.

"Hi, Jason dear. Sorry, I thought you were Sammy. I found his phone here and I'm just so happy he decided to come and visit us. Did you know he was coming?" she asks wiping the disappointment off of her lovely face.

"Where did you find that Jaqueline dear?" I ask pointing to my son's iPhone 5S. I have no idea why people think they need the latest cellular device! All that matters is that you have the latest and greatest new weapon.

"Oh, it was sitting on the side of the couch. Do you know where he is?" she asks.

Perfect. Just the opportunity I needed. I slowly glance down at the floor, tears welling in my eyes.

"Jason?" she asks lifting my chin up.

I sniffle. "Coroner's office" I croak.

Jaqueline's face pales, her eyes plead for me to say it isn't so. She thrust herself into my arms, burying her head into my chest as she sobs. I wrap my arms around her, wishing this wasn't so hard. Why is it so hard for parents to see their children die but it isn't so hard for children to watch their parents die? Jaqueline's sobs quiet down as she pulls away from me.

"I want to see him." She states softly.

I nod in agreement. How could I deny her of seeing my only son's body? There's not much closure to be given in the freezing cold office of the coroner though. I tell Jaqueline to sit down on the couch for a minute as I fetch her coat. When I come back with her coat and mine, I help her into the coat, then into my white Cadillac Escalade. I drive her through the streets of the base to the coroner's office then park the Cad'lac there. I hop out first, and then help Jaqueline out. I wrap my right arm around her shoulders. I feel her shaking as we approach a low sprawling building. I hold the door open as she enters. I lead her down a long hallway until I spot the letters on the door window that says, 'Medical Examiner'. She opens the door with her shaking hand. I enter after her. The coroner, W. Johnson, greets us with a sickening smile that's a cross between mournful and enthusiastic. He makes me sick. Jaqueline steps closer to my side until my arm is around her waist before she peers up at Johnson asking, "What happened?" the pain in her voice is killing me. I wish, I wish it had been different; but I can't do anything about it now, anyway, it needed to be done. It was the right thing to do. It was getting too complicated. He deserved worse than he got, I was gracious. I glare at Johnson as he explains the cause of death.

"Samuel Braddock died from an IED. An improvised explosive device. They're commonly used by the insurgents. While he was patrolling, he stumbled over one and uh, landed on top of it. It detonated, and his vest prevented the shrapnel from entering his chest, but the explosion created an extreme amount of pressure on the vest which shattered and broke nearly all of his ribs. The ribs punctured through his heart killing him. He was brought here and pronounced dead at 01617. I'm sorry."

"Jason, that was nearly two hours ago! Why didn't you tell me sooner?" my wife asks me quite shocked at the news of how her son died.

"Sweetie, I just found out myself. I came right home to tell you. I was so upset when I first heard; you just couldn't have seen me. I was an emotional wreck, hearing my son was brutally killed, you can't imagine not having anyone you love with you when you hear such news." I explain tears gathering in the corner of my eyes.

"Of course, I'm sorry Jason. I wouldn't be able to imagine how lonely you must've felt. What was he doing patrolling though? I thought he hated it here."

"I did too, Jaqueline. He called me on Friday and begged and pleaded for me to buy him a plane ticket for the next flight over. He said he couldn't stand it in Toronto and had to come back to see his friends. I feel terrible for his fiancé though. I don't know what he told her, but imagine hearing that your fiancé was killed. Poor girl. I didn't even think he would board the next plane here. I thought he was just terribly intoxicated and calling out of irrationalization. He must've conned his way into a unit. The next thing I know, I get a call from JTF6 saying that Sam has been killed. I didn't even know he was in the country! Then to hear he's-he's gone!" I start to cry. This is just too overwhelming.

Jaqueline embraces me as my sobs grow louder and more pained. I finally get myself under control.

"Can-can we see him?" she asks tearfully.

"Of course." Johnson states and leads us around a corner in his large office.

We stop in front of the stainless steel table my son's body lies on. A white sheet covers his entire body except for his feet and tied to his right big-toe is a toe-tag with his information on it.

'Braddock, Samuel W. Age: 26. Pronounced dead on 11/5/13 at 01617. Cause of death: IED; Kandahar, Afghanistan; lived in Toronto, Ontario Canada; had a fiancé. December 17, 1987 – November 5, 2013.'

Jaqueline releases the toe-tag and slowly walks to the right side of the table. I follow her. She tentatively pulls the white sheet back just far enough so we could see my son's face. Jaqueline starts to tremble as she looks at my son's pale, white face, his closed eyes, his blue lips. It's hard to see someone who is usually so full of life lie completely still on a table. It's difficult for me to see him not moving or breathing, and seeing what this is doing to my wife. She hesitantly places two fingers on his barely exposed neck. She gasps at the coldness of his body then sobs again as she feels nothing. Nothing is what he is. Nothing is what he always should've been. He should never have been born. Never. And now he is nothing, which is what he should've started out as. My wife sobs harder as I take the two top corners of the sheet and bring them up so they lie over my son's face again. I embrace Jaqueline and turn her away from my son. This is the first time she has cried so hard since our daughter Sara died.

"Come Jaqueline, we should be heading home now." I say gently tugging her towards the door.

"But what about his funeral?" she asks softly. Her deep brown eyes stare into my baby blue ones.

"I'll arrange something. Not just yet though. Ok?"

"His fiancé, his poor fiancé. Does she live in Toronto too?"

"Yes I believe so."

"She must come over. It wouldn't be right if she didn't. Jason, are we going to have the funeral here, in Ottawa, in Toronto, in Rio, in Moscow, in Leeds, or in Luxemburg? Or somewhere else in Europe or Asia?" she asks.

'_We have way too many homes.'_ I think. I never realized how many places we have houses in until she only named a few of them.

"I think Rio and Moscow are a little too far for this occasion. I'm not sure though, we'll discuss it tomorrow alright?" I say.

"Ok, I suppose we should be going. Thank you, Dr. Johnson."

"Yes, I'm terribly sorry about your loss."

We both exit and make our way to the Cad'lac waiting outside. Jaqueline is silent on the ride home. It was one thing seeing him in the sand; it was a whole different thing in there. My son just didn't even look like he had a chance to live. Was he only twenty-six? I thought for sure he was older than that. At least thirty. I guess not. That means his fiancé is probably between twenty-two and thirty. I'm not sure what to do with myself when we arrive home. Jaqueline goes upstairs to take a shower and go to bed leaving me downstairs alone. I nibble on some food, none of it is very appetizing. I suppose I should call the Staff Sargent of JFT6 so he can deliver the news to the rest of the unit. Who knows if my son made friends or acquaintances during his three short days there? Once I'm done with that I feel obligated to be with Jaqueline upstairs. I know this is hard on her, but she'll understand later that it's for the best.

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Toronto, ON Canada: 0830

**Ed's POV:**

We've all been sitting around the briefing room table discussing what's going through our mind. Commander Holleran granted Team One the rest of the week off but we'd all have to have a psych evaluation done before we're cleared for duty. He's worried about Jules the most. I'm worried about Jules too. I've gone and checked on her often but she still hasn't waked up. I'm not sure who, but someone called the rest of the Team, dispatchers, and PD's and told them what happened. But not in a lot of detail, because we don't know hardly anything and the General will not answer our calls. His secretary says he will call us back as soon as he has the chance. Wordy and I called our wives, Spike and Winnie called their close friends, and Greg sat there and didn't touch his phone. At 9:00, I come back into the briefing room after checking on Jules again and say, "Greg, I'm going to take her to my house."

"Ok, buddy. Can she spend the night in your house? I can come take her to my apartment or to her house tomorrow. I just don't want her to be alone."

"Yep, sounds good. Do you want me to come back?" I ask. I don't know how much longer the tissue supply will last nor how long my teammates will want to talk unless we know some more information.

"No, we're all going to go home, and eat lunch and go do something. Ok Team? I know this is hard. But we're going to get through this. Together. Now, no bars, no clubbing, no alcohol. If you want to meet with me tomorrow or some other time to talk, I'll have my schedule open and my phone on. Go home with someone if there's not going to be anyone where you live. We can't go through this alone. Ok? Do you all want to meet at Timmy's for coffee at 9 on Thursday?" Greg asks.

Heads nod.

"Ok, good, we'll all meet there ok? I'll be in touch with all of you ok? Take care Team."

We all leave and head to the locker rooms to gather our clothes. Wordy leaves to be with Shelley, I'm taking Jules home to be with my family, Spike and Winnie anonymously decide to go to Winnie's house to talk and hang out, and I think Greg's going home by himself and meeting up with some of his old buddies tonight. I carry Jules out to my car and place her in the passenger seat, then buckle her up. I throw my bag and hers into the trunk them climb in the driver's side taking off for home. Sophie knows Jules is staying with us, at least for today so she had the guest room ready when we arrived. I carry Jules down the hall into the guest bedroom and lay her down on the bed. I gently take off her vest, SRU shirt, boots, and pants. I redress her in what she came to work in. When I'm done, I pull the covers up over her. I leave and find Sophie and her tear-stained face sitting on the sofa. I sit with her and hug her while we both cry all over again.

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Kandahar, KAN Afghanistan: 01930

**Marcus' POV:**

No, no it couldn't have happened. No! No, it couldn't have. He's wrong, he's lying to us! No, Sam's not dead! How could, how could he have just fallen off the Humvee? I turn to Howie.

"He was on the same Humvee as General Braddock. How could he have just _let_ Sam fall off! How could he not have noticed? He was sitting right next to - Braddock! Oh my gosh!" I yell and run back to my tent from the center of the new camp where we were all gathered as a lieutenant told us the shocking news that Sam was pronounced dead. "Braddock! Samuel Braddock! General Braddock! Sam is, was, well is, General Braddock's son!"

I furiously start to write a letter, about the connection between Sam and the General and how the General just let his son die! It's outrageous! It's unethical! It's evil! It's cold-blooded! It's an action of Lucifer himself! Poison! The-the-the General poisoned Sam! Is that possible? He would've been able to get in and out of our tent and camp because he's the General, he can do whatever he wants! Wait, no, he probably sent someone out to do it for him, it'd be too obvious if he was doing it. Even if he didn't poison Sam, he made us go out on patrol and he could've planted that bomb! But it didn't hurt anyone. So, maybe not. But he was the one that moved our half of JFT6 to this new camp! He had the perfect opportunity! He just had to make sure he was in the same Humvee as Sam was, then during the sandstorm, throw him off and leave him to be run over and crushed to death! How could he?! How could he just kill his own son?! And just, just kill him in cold-blood. He could've been planning this for weeks or years! That's insane! I've got to talk to a Staff Sargent or a police officer. They have to know what he did. Sam didn't deserve that. He didn't deserve any of that!

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Toronto, ON Canada: 01600

**Ed's POV:**

Jules woke up a few hours ago. Sophie made her eat lunch and they talked for a little while. Clark should be getting home from school soon. I go into the guest room and Jules is asleep again. I sit on the side of the bed and gently rub Jules' forehead and cheek. I think about the text Greg sent me. The General got back to him and said Sam begged him to buy him a plane ticket to Afghanistan, conned his way into a unit and while out on patrol was killed by and IED. How? That's what I'm wondering. Sam hates Afghanistan! Why would he want to go back? Unless he was forced to go back. I don't hear Clark open the door of the room until he giggles. I whip my head around and motion for him to be quiet. He just laughs more.

"Clark, be quiet!" I hiss.

"Dad, what's she doing here and why are you loving up to her?" Clark asks.

"Clark, hear me out buddy,"

"Dad! Oh my gosh! Are you making out with her?! Does Mom, ugh, that's disgusting! She's your teammate! Dad!" Clark starts whining and shouting.

"Clark! No, never, Jules," I try to explain. I don't want to rush this.

"Dad is she my mom?!" Clark asks terrified.

"No; Sam died." I say cringing and shaking my head with the bluntness I just used.

Disbelief and pain washes over Clark's face. Everyone in Team One is part of his family. He didn't know Sam as well as Spike, Greg and Wordy but he still viewed him as his older brother especially since Sam was the youngest member of the team, but the most reserved.

"No, no Dad he can't be! Noooooooo," Clark sobs.

I walk over and embrace him as we sob. This is my third time sobbing today but I doubt it's my last. I try to walk Clark out of the room so we don't disturb Jules. Sophie is sitting on the couch again and we hug and cry some more. It's one thing to watch a teammate die in the line of duty. It's another when we come back from a break and suddenly get a call saying that a teammate is dead after a weekend full of meetings.

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Kandahar KAN Afghanistan: 02415

**Marcus' POV:**

I hurry to the police station after I figure out that Sam is General Braddock's son. _And_ that the General had the perfect opportunity to kill his son by pushing him off during the sandstorm and let him be crushed to death by the Humvees and tanks! I still find it unfathomable. How could a father just kill his son in cold-blood? These police officers, well I guess they're more like security officers are extremely slow. Finally, someone tells me to follow them and talk to an officer. I soon realize that this "officer" has an extremely tight grip on my arm and is leading me outside.

"Excuse me? Why are we going outside? Take me back! Let me go!" I shout before the "officer's" hand is plastered over my hand.

He drags me into an alley and I think my arm is broken. He stops but his hand is still over my mouth. I try to bite it, and then kick him. It doesn't work. It earns my head a hard greeting with the side of a brick building. I almost lose consciousness but a single flashlight beam sweeps the area and a sharp, shrill whistle pierces the silent desert air. The beam shines in my eyes and the physical beating ceases. The flashlight holder flicks the beam so I see his face. The hand is taken off my mouth as I gasp.

"You killed your son!" I shout.

"Sorry, Marcus; I didn't want to do this but you know too much." General Braddock states.

I hardly notice my captor moving away from me. The General snaps his fingers.

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**The General's POV:**

I mean what I say to Marcus. I didn't want to do this, but there's no choice. He knows too much and he dug his own grave when he said, "You killed your son." I snap my fingers and Marcus collapses, dead before he hits the ground. My sniper behind me shot him through the heart. A simple, silent, clean shot. It's an easy hit, it's an easy cover-up. Curtis and I leave, and he drives me home. More blood on my hands. Then again, what does it matter. Some unfortunate, grieving family is always blaming me for rushing commands or sending their son or daughter into a dangerous area. I'm sorry, war is dangerous. Afghanistan is dangerous. It's not my fault.

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Toronto ON Canada: 0900

**Jules' POV:**

My eyes flicker open to the bright sunlight. _'Where am I?'_ I think. I don't recognize this house. It's not mine. Why is Ed next to me? Did we, did he?! I glance around the room and find Sophie and Clark standing over me too. Oh, wait Boss is here too.

"Did I do something wrong?" I ask quietly not understanding anything.

"No Jules sweetie, you didn't do anything wrong." Ed says lifting me out of the bed.

I don't even care if I'm dressed at this point. But I am glad that I am.

"Eddie what happened? Why am I here? Where's Sammy?" I moan groggily.

Clark looks at me then runs out of the room crying. Sophie hurries after him.

"Jules, sweetie do you remember anything about yesterday morning before you accidently knocked yourself unconscious?" Ed asks me.

"What? N-oh no Eddie, Sam is he really gone? I thought it was just a bad nightmare. Sammy's gone!" I wail.

Both Ed and Greg hurry to my side. I'm half sitting in Boss' lap, half in Ed's. I sob for a few minutes remembering that yesterday we had received a call saying that my fiancé was dead. I try to pull myself together. I feel weak as Boss and Ed dress me in a different pair of clothes.

"C'mon Jules, I'm going to take you to my apartment ok?" Boss says as he basically carries me to the door.

"Sarge, take me home. I want to go to my house." I whimper.

"Ok sweetie, I'll take you to your house."

Clark steps around the corner, his eyes are glassy and wet. He opens his mouth to speak then closes it. I struggle in Sarge's arms to be put down. I nearly fall when my feet hit the ground. Clark runs towards me and wraps his arms around me. I almost fall to pieces again as I embrace him.

"I'm so sorry Jules. I miss him too." He whispers to me.

"Thanks Clark. I know how much Sam loved you like a brother." I whisper back and kiss his cheek. "We can get through this, somehow."

Sarge helps me walk out to his car and we drive to my house. He helps me inside and makes me breakfast. I had nearly forgotten that I was going to donate some old clothes to Good Will. I sigh and walk down into the cold basement. I rummage through boxes and dig out the old clothes. Right before I walk back up the steps, I see a new box sitting by the stairs. It's one I haven't seen before. I place the clothes in an empty box and open the new box. There are files, documents, books boring things that must've been Sam's; but wait, what's that? I pull it out of the box. It's an old-looking leather backed journal. It's Sam's. When did he keep a journal? I figure it must've been old from the journal's appearance but when I open it, the first entry date is July 12, 2013. The entry reads:

_Jules, July 12, 2013_

_Since you're reading this, I'm dead or you've found this by mistake. If this is a mistake, you can go upstairs and yell at me. I will tell you everything. I promise that I was going to tell you before we got married. But I'm probably dead. Go to where I am. I'll help you as much as I can. I don't know exactly how it was done; but wait to find Daddy's little nun. Take your time and do not rush. This is a dangerous journey. It will not be easy. Take this with you. If you want to find the truth; you must find the clues._

_~Samuel W. Braddock 56.3833° N, 28.1167° E_

Oh, my gosh! He knew! But, but what does this mean? 'But wait to find Daddy's little nun?' and what is that? Coordinates?

"Sarge?! Sarge you should come down here!" I yell still holding Sam's journal.

"Jules! What is it? What's wrong?" He asks jogging down the steps.

I thrust the journal in his hand and he reads with as much shock as I had. He hands the journal back to me.

"He knew." Sarge says. "He knew someone would kill him and it wasn't the insurgents. I'm not buying the whole IED thing either."

"Sarge, what are you talking about?" I ask thoroughly confused.

"I'll fill you in on the way. Pack up a suitcase or two. We're going to Afghanistan." He says while texting the team.

"What?!"

"The flight leaves in three hours. Let's go Jules."

I grab the journal and run upstairs to pack up. I get all my stuff together and out to Sarge's car. We stop at his house to pack up his things. Sarge quickly runs it by Commander Holleran and quite frankly he doesn't care how long we're on this chase to find Sam's killer. While we're driving over to the airport, his phone rings and Sarge puts it on Bluetooth. It's Ed. Apparently, Clark wants to come with us. It's not safe and Sophie doesn't want him to get in the way. Sarge says its fine with him and I agree its fine by me; just as long as it's fine with Sophie he can come. She knows how much Clark looked up to Sam and they both got along like brothers. She's sure that Clark would want to help in finding Sam's killer. Ed, Clark, Wordy, and Spike all meet us at the airport. We get checked in and board our flight. I'm nervous, I'm scared. I have Sam's journal with me and a few other things that remind me of him. I don't know where this will take our team. The plane takes off the runway. Kandahar, here we come.

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Kandahar KAN Afghanistan: 0300

**General's POV:**

I walk back into the coroner's office. I just can't seem to stay in my house tonight. I don't even knock on the door. As I make my grand entrance I say, "Johnson, the game has changed."

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_A/N: OMG! Ok, I'm really sorry this took so long for me to write. I've been plotting out the next few chapters so I know where I'm going with this. Sort of. I really hoped you liked it and I'm actually really excited about this story…..almost as excited as I am for the Leafs vs. Red Wings game tonight at 7 pm. GO LEAFS! Thanks for reading! Please R&amp;R_


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8:** _**A/N:**__ Hi peeps! Sorry this has taken so long to post this chapter. You will find that this story has a __**very**__ confusing plot. No lie there! Anyway, for all you Americans out there (and everyone else) please pray for the families of __**ALL**__ of the Fort Hood shooting victims. They need our support. Please keep their families in prayer. I hope you guys like this chapter. Please R&amp;R. Thank you!_

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Kandahar, KAN Afghanistan

**Mike's POV:**

I've been back at JTF1's compound for a full 24 hours now; I think. It was just really hard seeing Sam like he was, all cut up and scared and young. I mean, I'm 40 years old, turning 41 in January and Sam's what, 26? 27 in December? He looked bad, and I mean bad bad. A twenty-six year old should not be having anything like a cardiac arrest! But I am surprised it didn't happen sooner the way his father treats him. I'm sort of surprised Sam hasn't committed suicide but I guess when he moved to Toronto and met his fiancé, life got a whole lot better. I'll be glad when this tour is up so I can resign from Staff Sargent and go back to Churchill, Manitoba to be far away from all of this chaos. Since JTF6 moved to the base, we are stuck about 40 miles away from where JTF6's old camp was, all alone. In the morning I'm summoned to answer a call from SSgt Bradley. When I pick up the phone this is how the conversation goes.

"Hello? Mike Laurence? This is Bradley from JTF6." He says.

"Hello, what's going on?" I ask. No one from a different unit should be calling another unit unless something bad, usually really bad, has happened.

"Uh, David Ellison has been killed by a roadside bomb. I'm sorry."

"What?! No, no you've got the wrong David. You can't be talking about the same David Ellison that I am."

"I'm so sorry Mike. Someone found him last night, he was pronounced dead at the scene. Marcus, his roommate committed suicide last night over David's death. I know you said David meant the world to you and I am truly very sorry for your loss. You may come over and see them both if you'd like. You know where we are. I'm sorry Mike." Bradley says emptily.

It takes me a few minutes to digest what Bradley is saying. Sam? My little Sammy was killed by a roadside bomb? No, no it just can't be.

"No, no Sa-David's a fighter." Very quietly I squeak, "He's – he's my son."

"I'm very sorry for your loss Mike. David was a fighter. Please, let me know if there is anything I can do. Perhaps I will see you soon? You can come over here any time you wish. I'm really sorry." Bradley states and hangs up.

I place the phone back in its cradle and dazedly walk down the hall to my room in the compound. I sit grief-stricken on the edge of my bed and barely notice when Leif, my 1st lieutenant from Denmark and roommate, walks into our room and sits on the bed next to me.

"Michael, I heard. I know what he meant to you. I'm so, so sorry Michael. I'm so sorry he had to leave you that way."

A few minutes of silence pass before I can't stand it any longer.

"He did something. He did something to Sammy! He did something to my son!" I yell in rage through my tears. "He did something and I'm going to find out what it was."

"Bradley said you could come over to JTF6 right? Why don't you go over for a few days? I can hold the fort down." Leif states.

"Are you sure, Leif? I mean, it can wait, I guess." I say feeling guilty.

"Are you kidding me Michael? It can wait? Seriously? Just like yesterday you were talking about seeing Sam for the first time in nine years and how he looked really bad and how he said he loved you too. No, it can't wait. Go see him. C'mon Michael, just go. You'll feel better. Even if it wasn't a roadside bomb and someone killed him, it'll make you feel a little better that he's at rest now. He was too young to die but at least he's resting. Go Michael. I'll keep in touch." Leif encourages as he packs up my bags.

I guess I'm going to the base. I help Leif pack up my things and he sends me out in Humvee. I still feel like I'm taking advantage of him, but I trust Leif with my life and the lives of my soldiers in the unit. He always does a good job taking care of everything. I'm glad he's in second in command.

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Kandahar, KAN Afghanistan

**Jules' POV:**

We step off the plane in Kandahar and all you can see for miles is sand. No wonder Sam hated it here. Everything's all dry and lifeless. It gives a new meaning to 'no-man's land' that's for sure. Ed hands me my two very full suitcases and all the guys (and Clark) grab their bags too. Just as we are getting our bearings, I spot a very familiar woman walking in our direction.

"Natalie?" I ask when she is within earshot.

"Huh? Julianna? You guys must've heard about S-" she starts before breaking into sobs.

I try to console her, but we're both lost in grief. When we stop, Spike's arm is wrapped around Natalie's shoulders and Clark is by my side.

"I'm sorry; it's just so hard to think that, that my brother is-is gone. I'm being selfish though. You and Sammy were going to get married in the summer. It must be harder on you Jules, I hardly ever saw him but you saw him every day." Natalie says.

"I think it's hard on everyone." I say feeling Clark's arm around my waist. I return the gesture.

"Were you guys going to see my parents? I'm sure my Mom has a place for you guys to stay."

"Oh, that's great. We won't be staying long though." Spike says. I find it odd that he doesn't mention the coordinates or the journal Sarge and I showed everyone on the plane.

"Oh, ok. I guess you guys have to get back to work. Toronto always needs help." She says with a weak smile. "Well you guys can follow me to the house. I'll grab a limo for you."

In five minutes all seven of us are riding in a black limousine to the base in Kandahar. Clark sits next to me but he fidgets uncomfortably. I don't think he's ever been out of Canada and if he has, he hasn't gone far. We finally arrive at the front gates of the large army base. Clark helps me out and we all grab our bags. Natalie has arranged for us to meet Mrs. Braddock. The General is not available tonight. This time change is messing me up. Apparently it's 12:30 pm on Thursday the 7th. When did that happen?! The introductions between the Team and Sam's mother are painful and tense. I think we all suspect something different. Mrs. Braddock, Jacqueline as she tells us to call her, makes everyone lunch and apologizes for Jason, aka the General, not being able to meet us tonight. Jacqueline is pleasant and kind but you can tell she's not exactly the most comfortable with all of Team One being here with me.

She finds two large apartments for us to rent that are right down the street from their house. The rooms are large. All the men stay in one apartment and I'm by myself next door. It's almost worse than my house with half of a king-sized bed empty and cold. I guess that's how I'm feeling on the inside too. I plan on staying in my apartment for the rest of the day until Clark knocks on my door.

"Hey Jules? It's Clark." He says.

"Hold on a second. I'll be right there." I say walking to door and opening it. "Hi," I say quietly. It's a bit strange having Ed's sixteen year old son with us, but I like his company.

"Hi, I was wondering, do you want to go on a walk with me? Just down a few streets and back. If you want to, I mean." He says glancing uncomfortably up at me.

"I'd love to. Is it ok with Ed?"

"Yeah, I asked him before I came over. He just said to watch the signs and remember where we are."

"Ok, I think we can do that." I say smiling. "Let me get some better clothes on and I'll be right out." I say grabbing a different shirt and pair of pants then walk into the bathroom closing _and_ locking the door behind me while Clark sits down on my bed.

I grab my cell phone, pistol, and keys when I'm ready and we head outside. The streets are busy, but not packed. There are soldiers walking around and Humvees driving through. Up ahead I see a sign that says the other part of the compound is a little further ahead. Clark and I walk through the streets and the sad-attempts at parks. We laugh at each other and it just feels good to be around someone who doesn't see all the mess I see every day. Somehow after work, Sam was always able to shut down the part of his brain that saw all the chaos and become a younger, more carefree man. And no, he wasn't drunk. Deep down though, Clark and I are hurting. I can tell by the way he walks and looks at things that he's not truly happy, yet again, neither am I. We've been out and about for a few hours and it's starting to grow dark. We start walking back to the apartments when Clark stops in front of me and turns around.

"Clark? What's wrong?" I ask. Of course it is my natural instinct to assume something is wrong.

"Jules, this is from Sam." He says and pulls a sapphire necklace out of a jewelry box he had in his pocket.

"What?" I ask a little confused but stunned by the beauty of the sapphire. They're my favorite gem.

"Six days ago on November 1st Sam came up to me and asked me to keep this and if anything ever happened to him, to give it to you. He said sapphires are your favorite." Clark explains handing the box over to me.

"Oh, Sammy." I squeak starting to cry again.

Well, I didn't really realize that we are still in the street until Clark leads me closer to the side of a building.

"Jules, I didn't mean to make you upset. I just,"

"No, Clark you didn't make me upset. It's just; Sam knew something like this was going to happen. That's why, well partly why this is so upsetting. He knew that someone was going to kill him and he didn't tell anyone because he didn't want to worry us or have them hunt him down and kill him in front of anyone. I guess he just figured that he'd rather be murdered where no one would see it happen than have it happen in front of someone he loved. That's all Clark. Thank you for bringing this. I know he meant a lot to you." I say trying to make sense of this situation.

"He was _your_ fiancé. He was just like a brother to me. Except he wasn't always very talkative." Clark says smiling a bit.

He's got that right. Sam isn't very talkative when he's around certain people or places, but if you know him, oh he'll talk alright! Sam is one of the most reserved people I've met though. I always assumed it was from the army, you know, speak only when you're spoken to; don't talk out of line; that kind of thing. Clark suddenly throws himself into my arms his body heaving with his tears. I wrap my arms around him trying to comfort but also trying to quiet him down. Someone taps me on my shoulder and my hand flies for my pistol. Then I hear the voice. It's Natalie.

"Oh! Sorry Jules. I didn't mean to scare you. I ought to know by now not to sneak up on cops, I guess I still need to practice that one." She says laughing nervously.

Clark sniffles a few times as Natalie continues.

"Mom told me to find you and tell you that if you want to see Sam, she and I will be there tonight. His funeral is tomorrow and all soldiers have closed-casket funerals. Injuries and such. You're welcome to come tomorrow as well, but if you wanted some alone time, tonight would be the time." She states quietly.

I glance at Clark then Natalie. Does she really have to be so blunt? I know she's used to soldiers dying and funerals and all, but she sounds like they happen every day and are common knowledge. It doesn't seem like she suspects any foul play from anyone! In her mind I suppose, Sam was just another unfortunate soldier to be blown to smithereens by an IED. I hope it's a little different though because Sam is her brother.

"Yes, I would like to come with you tonight. Clark, do you want me to take you back?"

Clark's face says it all. _'Yes, of course I want to see Sam. No, I definitely __**do not**__ want to see Sam; he was blown away by an IED! But he's like my brother. It's not my place; it's Jules' fiancé and Natalie's blood-related brother. I want to make sure it's him. I, oh, I don't know!'_

"It's ok if you don't want to go Clark. I can take you back. Really."

"I think I'd like to go back." He says quietly; deciding it is better to remember Sam how he was, a friendly, quiet, young adult who would sit and listen to you and was engaged to his father's teammate. Not as a pale, cold, body who had no expression, possibly blown up in pieces (he hopes not) and completely lifeless. Clark has been to enough funerals. He doesn't need to see Sam's body to accept that he's gone.

"Ok, I'll take you back." I say.

"I'll come with you Jules; if that's ok. We can go see him together." Natalie suggests.

"Ok."

The three of us walk back to the apartments. I tell the rest of my team where I'm going and they all hug me goodnight and goodbye. Natalie and I walk to a low concrete building a few blocks away. We enter and Jacqueline is already there. Still no sign of the General. Doesn't he care? Maybe he doesn't. Sam said they didn't have a good relationship but I doubt it was _that_ bad. I follow Natalie as she leads me into a large room with two caskets in it. One is Sam's, the other, I have no idea and neither does Natalie.

"I believe that is Kyle Morrison. He was also killed by an IED. Terrible things they are. He left his wife pregnant with their third child. It's a shame and it happens so quickly. The surgeon in JTF6 said there was nothing they could do to save him. It happens too often. All of these young women and men just being killed mercilessly by the insurgents. It's awful." Jaqueline explains when I ask her.

Sam's body is in a normal-sized dark oak casket with a large Canadian flag draped over it. Tears gather in my eyes just seeing that and knowing my fiancé is in there and just – gone. We all stand next to each other and pray for a few minutes. It's awful is right. The love of my life has died sixty years earlier than he should have, he was probably all alone when it happened and I highly doubt it was instantaneous. My little Sammy wanted to spare me of watching his murder so he came over to no man's land and just let it happen.

Jacqueline takes a deep breath and opens her son's casket. The small bit of his lifeless body I see is quite enough and I swiftly retreat to the back of the room sobbing. She and Natalie stand over him like they are trying to pick out what ice cream they want to buy!

"I've got to go." I announce and run out of the building.

I feel better once I'm outside but what I saw will be burned in my brain forever. I finally haul myself up the steps to my apartment. Tears still drip down my face as I open my door, enter, lock the door, fling myself onto my bed hugging a pillow and sobbing into it. I hear voices outside of my door, but I don't care. Sam is gone and that's all that matters.

"Jules? Hey Jules? Open the door." Ed states.

I don't move and I hear the lock being picked. A few seconds later, Ed, Sarge, Wordy, Spike and Clark walk into my room. I don't look up at them. I just close my eyes and wish it to all go away. My eyes are forced open however by Wordy making sure that I don't have a concussion. I feel a little claustrophobic as all of my teammates sit around and hold me. Sarge is the kindest, Wordy is the gentlest, Spike is the most careful, and Ed is the most father-like. Clark just sits near me. I sob uncontrollably and everything is just a big blur. I feel like I've been drinking all night, but I haven't had anything in weeks. I feel Ed holding me again then I black out.

_(0700 a.m.)_

"Jules? Sweetie it's time to get up." Someone says softly. They start to gently tug the sheets off of me and lightly shake my shoulder until I start to moan quietly. "C'mon Jules, you've got to wake up. You too Clark."

Now I realize that Ed is the one talking to me. Why do I have to get up? Sam's funeral is today and – and – and do I have say any more? I open my eyes as my Team Leader picks me up out of the bed.

"Ed, put me down," I mumble. "I don't want go anywhere. I just – I just want Sammy to be alive." I start cry again.

"Shhh, I know Jules. I know sweetie. I know how much you miss him Jules but you can't get all depressed on me." Ed murmurs allowing me to bury my head into his chest as he strokes my hair. "Clark, c'mon get up."

"Dad,"

"Clark, get up and grab a pair of Jules' clothes from her suitcase."

"Eddie I don't want to go." I sob harder wrapping my arms around his back in a weak embrace.

"Shhh, its ok Jules. You're going to be ok." Ed soothes hugging me back as Clark places a pair of my clothes on the bed next to his father. "Thank you Clark. You can go get dressed too."

I hear Clark leaving my room and I try to turn around, wriggling out of Ed's arms. As I look around my room, Clark's sleeping bag is on the floor next to my side of the bed, Sarge is sitting in a nearby chair and another empty chair sits next to Sarge's. I assume Sarge and Ed slept in the chairs and Clark slept next to me on the floor. Sarge smiles tiredly at me.

"Hey Jules. How are you?"

"Sarge, I don't want to go to Sammy's funeral. He didn't just die, somebody killed him and it wasn't the insurgents. Please Sarge, I don't want to go!" I start to sob again.

"It's ok Jules. Why don't we just scout out the base, talk to his CO, see if he made any friends; just try to get some background information on Sam and his family." Sarge suggests.

I helplessly nod my head.

"C'mon Jules, why don't you take a shower and get dressed. We'll get breakfast around. It's ok." Ed states setting me on the floor and guiding me to the bathroom.

I sigh and take a shower then get dressed. When I finish applying the last bit of makeup I hear loud commotion in my room. I poke my head out of the door to see what's going on. Spike is running around my room yelling at the top of his lungs.

"What the heck?" I say as I step out into the chaos.

"Jules! Jules! The coordinates! Zilupe! Zilupe, Latvia!" Spike shouts excitedly.

"What are you talking about Spike?" I ask taking a chance to walk across the room.

"The coordinates in Sam's journal are the coordinates to Zilupe, Latvia." Spike explains.

"Where the heck is that?" Ed asks.

"Uh, Latvia is on the Atlantic side of Russia in-between Estonia and Lithuania. Zilupe is a small town close to Russia."

"Ok and why would Sam have the coordinates of Zilupe, Latvia in his journal?" Sarge asks turning to me.

"I don't know. He never mentioned anything about it." I state embarrassed that I hardly know anything about my fiancé's past.

"Alright, well let's go around the base and try to find some clues that can help us find out who and what killed Sam." Ed says very reasonably.

We all nod and pack up some things for the day after eating a light breakfast. There's not much food around here if you're not in a unit or an official staying for conferences. Around 8:45 am we all walk out onto the streets. There are throngs of soldiers in crisp dress uniforms lining the streets. I overheard that Kyle Morrison's body will be driven through the main street at 9 o'clock. Apparently, Kyle and Sam were in the same unit when Sam supposedly "conned his way into a unit." Sam's funeral will be held at 10 o'clock. He has an actual funeral since he is the General's son and was one of the best snipers the Canadian army had. Many officials were saddened hearing that he had been killed but not because they cared about him, they were just sad that they had lost one of their best snipers. I try not to think about it too much as we walk through the base trying to find Sam's Commanding Officer. We went from the first compound to the second asking soldiers and officers, book-keepers and cooks; no one had ever heard or met a Samuel Braddock! We rephrased the questions several times but still, no one knew anything! We still wander through the streets pretty much feeling hopeless. We couldn't find anything. It seemed like Sam wasn't even in Kandahar except somehow, he was killed by an IED. I saw his body, he's gone but how did he get here and why doesn't anyone know who he is? It's frustrating to say the least.

We stop in a small restaurant for lunch though I don't think anyone has an appetite. Clark always stays close to my side. Natalie calls me saying that she has set up a meeting for us with her father at two o'clock, well 01400 as she says. I'm nervous about meeting him, what will he say? I've never been formally introduced but Sam never acted like he wanted me to meet the General. Two o'clock rolls around and we walk up to a low sprawling beige building. The corridors are long and empty. Sarge is the one that actually finds the conference room General Braddock is waiting for us in. Ed knocks on the door and three security guards frisk us then allow us entrance.

"Sargent Parker, Constable Lane, Constable Wordsworth, Constable Scarlatti, Constable Callaghan and Young Mr. Lane; I have been expecting you." The General states as we take our seats.

"Hello sir. I understand that you are grieving in this time of, tragedy, as are we, but can we ask you a few questions about Sam?" Sarge states with the perfect balance of respect and force.

"Yes, of course you may. It is only natural to be curious. What do you wish to know?" The General says with a heavy voice.

"I know that when you called us on Tuesday, you said that Sam had called you begging you to buy him a seat on the next plane to Kandahar. You also mentioned that he said that he couldn't stand it in Toronto anymore. Is that correct?" Sarge asks.

"Yes, that is what he told me."

"Sir, we have been asking around his unit and no one has heard of or met a Samuel Braddock. Why is that? No one knew he was here or who he was _if_ he was even here at all." Sarge presses harder.

"I don't know Sargent Parker. I did what my son wanted me to do and that is that. I do not know why his unit does not know who he is, was. Since he was desperate and cunning enough and I'm sure he wasn't in a sound state of mind, he probably used an alias. I don't know!" General Braddock exclaims.

"Sir, please." I start. "We need answers. My fiancé said you summoned him to Ottawa for meetings over the weekend and when he was supposed to be back at work on Tuesday, we get a call saying that he has died. We were getting married in May! I lost the love of my life and you aren't giving us any answers!" I shout while sobbing.

"Do you think this is an interrogation for his murder?! I just buried my son for God's sake! If I _had_ any answers to give you, any closure to offer, I would've done it by now! _I_ don't have any answers; _I_ don't have any closure for why _my_ son was suddenly ripped from my life! I don't have anything except a death certificate and a body. What do you want from me?!" The General shouts as tears stream down his own face.

I open my mouth to speak but Clark places his hand on my own. He shakes his head, 'no.'

"Jules, this isn't helping. We aren't getting anywhere. We're all upset; we're all grieving." He says quietly begging me to stop.

The General is struggling to get himself under control as am I. Maybe I did go too far, push him too hard. I just have a hard time seeing General Braddock as Sam's father and an even harder time seeing him as father who cares about his son. Sam never talked about him, at least not to me.

"I'm sorry sir. I didn't realize what I was saying. We are _all_ grieving Sam's death. Apparently none of us have any logical explanation of why such a phenomenal guy like Sam, is now suddenly gone forever. My team and I have to leave later today but please call me if you find anything. I – I'm really sorry for your loss sir." I choke out, tears welling in the corner of my eyes again.

Clark wraps his arm around my waist as we stand up preparing to leave.

"Julianna, I'm so sorry that you and Samuel were so close. I – I know how hard this is and I wish that Samuel wasn't planning on marrying you so it wouldn't have been so hard for you to say goodbye to him. I'll call you if I find anything. Forgive me Julianna for yelling at you earlier. I was in the wrong. I'm sorry. Please, have a safe flight. If you wish to talk more, I'll keep my schedule open. Please, stay safe." The General states softly and gently.

The sincerity in his voice makes me wonder if all of the bad things that I've heard about him are all wrong. He sounds like he truly misses his son and he actually seems to be a human.

"Thank you." Sarge replies as everyone stands. "Here's our number. Perhaps we'll talk again sometime?"

"Yes perhaps we will. Be careful." The General states again as he holds the door open for us.

He nods to me when I walk out of the door. As we walk down the desolate hallway to the door, we're all in our own little worlds. Everyone thought that the General was a monster of a man, cruel and harsh but just now he was a broken man; grieving the loss of his only son. Was all of the slight information we had on him wrong? Did we jump to conclusions? Are we just trying to find someone to blame instead of finding who really killed Sam? Was this a good idea to come over here at all, I mean, Sam said, well wrote, 'go to where I am' but did he really want us seeing all this? Was he even murdered? I mean, if he was desperate enough to lie to me, then maybe he just killed himself. I guess he didn't love me as much as I thought he did. Maybe I rushed him into the thought of marriage and he wasn't ready for it! What if this is all my fault?! What if I did this to him?! He wasn't ready, how could he have been ready to commit his life to me when he didn't even want me knowing everything about him. He's been hiding things from me because he didn't want me to find out or he just wasn't ready to share. I – I think I killed my fiancé.

"Jules? Earth to Jules!" Spike shouts.

"Huh? What?" I ask. I look at my surroundings. How did we get back to our apartment so fast?

"Are you ready to go?" Ed asks.

"Yeah, just give me a second." I say grabbing my suitcase and making sure that Sam's journal is in my carry-on bag. "Ok. I'm good."

"Alright. To Latvia we go." Sarge says as we climb into a very large taxi.

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Kandahar, KAN Afghanistan

**Howie's POV:**

What a day. This morning I stood on the streets sobbing as Kyle's body was driven through, then I attended David Ellison's funeral and on top of that Marcus has committed suicide over David's death. His drive through will be tomorrow morning. I'm all alone in my room now. I think SSgt. Bradley is going to move someone in with me until my tour is up in a year. These past two days have been very hard. As I sit on the edge of my bed in my quiet room in the compound, I decide that I should read what Kyle had addressed to me. I riffle through my bags that I still have not unpacked until I find Kyle's letter. Except what I find is not Kyle's letter. It is written in Pashto and is from, wait, David Ellison? Is – is that possible? My eyes wash over the pages, my brain devours the words. I read in confusion and horror. This cannot be happening!

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Kandahar, KAN Afghanistan

**Mike's POV:**

If you think your morning is stressful, you wouldn't believe how stressful _my_ morning was. Sam's funeral was long and tense. Something definitely wasn't right. I tried to find Jules' face in the small crowd, but she wasn't there. Why wouldn't she come? Was she not told? I promised Sammy that I would find her and keep her safe. That's what I have to do. That's my job now but why wasn't she at her own fiancé's funeral? Its things like that, which bother me. I also heard that Marcus' drive through is tomorrow. He just didn't seem like the kind of guy that would commit suicide. Sam said he had only been over here since Saturday KAN time. If someone killed him on Tuesday, then Marcus would've only known him for a little less than three whole days. That's not a whole lot of time to get to know someone. I've been walking around the base just looking for answers. None of this is making sense. General Braddock said a few words at Sam's funeral but didn't look particularly sad. Then again, no one really did. Do these men not have hearts anymore? Have they lost their soul? Is it really that bad in their lives that they can't smile every once in a while? Has it become that bad?

"Why can't I find anything?" I mutter to myself as I'm walking down the street.

Staff Sargent Bradley doesn't know anything about a Samuel Braddock and neither do any of the other soldiers in JFT6. Only a handful had even heard of David Ellison. Why was it such a secret? Why can't I find Jules? I can't miss her. She's a beautiful young woman and there are not many women on the base so she shouldn't be that hard to find! But, oh, yes she is. I'm still wandering around at 01600. The sky is beginning to darken. The sun transforms into a fiery pink-orange creature basking everything in its intense glow. Three streets ahead of me, six people load luggage into a large taxi, climb in and pull away heading for the airport.

'_I wonder who that could be.'_ I ask myself.

I find myself staring at ever-shrinking taxi unable to split my gaze. When it is no longer in sight, I sigh and walk back to the compound. Maybe I will have more answers tomorrow. God takes time. After all, He has all the time in the world.

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Leaving Kandahar, KAN Afghanistan:

**Greg's POV:**

Eddie, Wordy, Spike, Jules, Clark and I board the plane heading for Riga, Latvia. From there we will drive to Zilupe. The flight will take five hours and sixteen minutes and the drive will take four hours and thirteen minutes. Our flight leaves at 4:30 pm so we will arrive in Riga at 11:16 pm. We'll drink a ton of coffee and arrive in Zilupe 3:29 am. As the airplane takes off from the runway, Jules looks over at me.

"Sarge, I feel like we're missing something."

I know what she means. We arrive safely in Riga and then Wordy, Eddie, Spike and I take turns driving to Zilupe. We arrive on time; find a hotel to stay and crash there. Jules and Clark are pretty much beat. Eddie finally gets me to fall asleep until about six in the morning. The rest of my team starts waking up at about seven. We leave the hotel after we eat breakfast to find 'daddy's little nun.' As we walk through the streets of Zilupe, Wordy points out a Catholic church.

"Boss, Catholic churches have nuns, rights?" he asks.

"Yes, I believe so. Let's ask the nuns about Sam." I suggest.

My team crosses the street and enters the church. We enter and find the nuns in the back room. Thankfully there were a few that spoke English.

"Did any of you have a son named Sam or Samuel?" Eddie asks.

They turn and look at each other, then us.

"Eddie," Spike hisses. "Nuns don't get married, hence they don't have children."

"Oh, yeah, right. Sort of forgot about that." Eddie whispers back. He stands and thinks for a second. "Ok, let me rephrase that. Did any of you know a little blonde haired boy by the name of Samuel?"

One nun cautiously steps forwards after a minute. "Yes." She says quietly.

"Ok, can we talk to you about him? I promise, we will not hurt you in any way." I promise.

She glances towards the other nuns and when they nod, she says, "Follow me, I will take you to my house."

So we follow her out of the church and walk down a street or two to her house. It's a good-sized house with a polished stone walkway and flowers. She leads us inside and tells us to sit down in her living room while she brings us water. When she comes back in, she sits down as well and starts to talk.

"Samuel is my son." She says in broken English.

Jules spins her head towards me. "Isn't Jacqueline his mother?"

I shrug. "Go on." I say to the woman.

"Oh, I am being rude. Forgive me. I am Xenia Wilson. Yes, I am Samuel's mother. Leons was a good husband. A very good husband. He was not home very often, but he was lovely." Xenia says her eyes happy and bright.

"Who is Leons?" Jules asks.

"Samuel's father. Lovely man."

Jules turns to me. "The General's name is Leons?"

I shrug again. "So what happened, Ms. Wilson?"

"Oh, I am not sure. I do not know all of the reasons for why he left and took Samuel with him. I haven't seen either of them for many, many years though. I've always wondered what became of little Samuel." She says thoughtfully.

"I'm sorry Ms. Wilson, Samuel has died." Eddie states, glancing down at the floor his eyes barely meeting hers.

Pain and sorrow wash across Xenia's face as she absorbs the news. She begins to cry softly but abruptly stops. "I should've known better." She states angrily. "I should never have done that to him."

My whole team's ears prick up. "Excuse me Ms. Wilson, do you mind telling us what you did to him?" I ask gently.

"Oh, of course, I'm sorry. Follow me upstairs, if you wish." She says and walks up the winding stair case. We scurry to catch up to her. She leads us into a small bedroom. As soon as I walk in, I can tell it was Sam's from when he was a young boy. I hear Jules gasp and whimper as Clark wraps his arms around her. "This was Samuel's bedroom from when he was very, very little. I haven't touched it and he has not ever been back. I will let you have some privacy." She says and hurries down the stairs.

I walk around the small room looking at what was Sam's life. There isn't much furnishings but it is cozy nonetheless. Jules shakily walks over to the small bed in the corner and brushes her fingers against the material. She throws herself onto it and breaks into choked sobs. Through her gasps I hear her saying that she can still smell his scent on the pillows. She slowly gets herself together and we go into 'seek' mode. We don't exactly ransack the room; just very carefully go through **everything. ** On a small dusty bookcase, Jules pulls out a leather backed book. It's another one of Sam's journals. She opens it to the first page and begins to read aloud.

* * *

_**December 17, 1992: **__** Dear **__**Diary**__**World**__** Latvia,**_

_**It's my fith birthday twoday and Daddy gave me this jurnal. I'm living in **__**Latvea**__** Latvia. Daddy says it's sumwear in **__**Yurup**__** Europe next to **__**Rusha**__** Russia and in beetween **__**Estonea**__** Estonia and **__**Litawaynea**__** Lithuania. When it snowed yesturday, Mommy hit me cuz she sayed I wuz two exsited. She didn't let me play in the snow. Daddy yells at me when he comes home and I am crying cuz Mommy hit me. He sayed I wuz week if I cryed and he needed me to be strong. I wish Daddy wuz home more, Mommy drinks out of glas botles and yells and hits me harder. I wish Daddy culd protect me. Daddy and Mommy wer yelling at each other last night. I herd Daddy saying the skool called asking if I wuz fighting. He told Mommy she had to stop hitting me. I herd her say that if I wuzn't so bad, she wuldn't have to hit me. I'm not bad. I do everything she tels me. Maybe it will get better.**_

_**~Samuel W. Braddock **_

* * *

I look at my team. Xenia was an alcoholic and abusive? This sweet woman? I find that hard to believe. Jules flips through the next few entries but stops when she comes across this one.

* * *

_**January 15, 1993: Dear Latvia,**_

_**I came home from school two hours ago. A lot has happened. Mommy wuz trying to find the key to the glas botle fridge. I know wear it is but I didn't tell her. Daddy told me to never tell her wear it is. I didn't. She must've found it on her own. She opened the fridge and started to drink out of the glas botles. I went downstairs and she threw her botle at me. It hit me in the head, shattering. Blood wuz driping down my face and all the way upstars she threw botles at me. She kept drinking. I crawled into the bathroom closet wear I am now. I'm scared. I don't know when Daddy's coming home, if he's coming home at all. I hear Mommy stumbling up the stares and lock me in the closet. I'm just so slee-**_

* * *

_Jason's {aka the General, aka Leon} POV:_

_ I finally drive into the driveway of my house. This week has been far too stressful. It's a bit late, but I'd like to have a nice, quiet dinner with Samuel and Xenia. The lights are on inside as I unlock the door. I will never forget what I saw next. Blood is splattered on the walls, shattered glass lay strewn on the floor, and the whole house is dead silent. I run down to the basement and find that one of my worst fears has come true. The alcohol fridge door is wide open and there must be at least twenty bottles missing. I run back up the steps to find a window. Xenia's car is gone and so are her keys but where is Sammy?! _

"_Samuel? Sammy?! Sammy, talk to me!" I run through the house calling for my son. _

_ I'm in a total panic. What if she took him with her? What if he ran away? What if, what if she accidently killed him?! I run upstairs to my son's room. It's empty. I keep calling for him. I'm almost out of places to look when I think about the bathroom closet. I try to open the door. It's locked. I'm still calling for Sammy. I try to bust the door down. It doesn't budge. I'm terrified that I'm going to find his tiny little body curled up in there all limp and cold. No, Sammy can't be dead. I've got to find him! If only this stupid door would open! _

"_Ughh," I grunt as something in my shoulder pops out of place when I slam into the door._

_I don't have to breathe through the pain. The thought of finding my little son dead in this closet numbs my whole body. Finally after one more slam, the lock breaks and I frantically pull the door open. _

"_No! No Sammy!" I choke as I see his tiny little body lying in motionless little heap._

_I drop to my knees and crawl to my son. I gently pull him into my lap and feel for a pulse. I cry as a weak little beating in his neck reaches my shaking fingertips. _

"_Oh Sammy! Good son." I murmur. _

_Then I notice the blood streaming down the side of his pale face and down his limp little arms._

"_Sammy, why didn't I see this coming? Why didn't I leave her already? I can't believe she did this to you buddy." _

_I gently lay him back down on the carpeted floor that is already stained with Sammy's blood. I crawl out of the closet to fetch some antiseptic wipes and bandages from the bathroom. When I grab them, I crawl back into the closet, pick Sammy up again and clean out his cuts. A few pieces of glass were still in his hair but I carefully pick them out. I wrap Sammy's little body up in a big, fluffy towel and hold him close to my chest crying. A half hour later, Sammy starts to moan quietly._

"_Hey Sammy, its ok. Daddy's here Sammy. I'm going to take care of you."_

_His little baby blue eyes flutter open and he starts to cry but quickly stops himself. Why did I always yell at him if he cried? He's in pain, he's scared. What kind of a father am I not allowing my son to cry when he's hurt? A bad one, that's what. I'm a terrible father, marrying an alcoholic wife and letting her beat my son. I didn't care enough to stop her and now look what she's done. Look what I've done._

"_It's ok, Sammy. It's ok to cry son. I love you Sammy. I love you so, so much Sammy. I'm so sorry any of this happened. Please forgive me. C'mon Sammy, Daddy's going to take you far away from here. I'll keep you safe Sammy. Daddy will keep you safe." I promise. _

_I tell Sammy to go to his room and start packing up his important things. I go to my room and pack up all of my clothes and special things. I know where we're going. It's going to be hard, just me and Sammy. I'm still a high-ranking military official in the Canadian Army and now I'm a single-dad. At least Sammy will be safe and I'll do my best to keep him happy._

* * *

_**\- - - - - - - - I woke up a half hour ago in Daddy's arms. I hurt all over. I wuz crying but tried to stop. Daddy yells at me when I cry. He told it wuz ok to cry though. Daddy told me he was going to take me far away from Latvia. He said he'd keep me safe and that he's so sorry any of this happened. For the first time since I've been alive he told me he loved me. I love you too Daddy. He told me to pack up all of my important things. He won't let me take you jurnal. He told me that he'd buy me another one when we get to Russia. I have to go now. Daddy's packing up the rest of our things. He says we have to go before Mommy comes back.**_

_**~Samuel W. Braddock.**_

_**59.9500° N, 30.3000° E**_

* * *

Jules glances up from the journal, her eyes filled with tears. My whole team is crying.

"How could he just let her beat Sam?" Jules asks.

"I don't know, Jules. Let's ask her." I say and summon Ms. Wilson to Sam's room. "Ms. Wilson, do you remember January 15, 1993 at all?"

"Yes, I will never forget that night. It was the worst night of my life." She says. "It's a little blurry. I know I had been drinking and I was just so happy that I had found Leons' key to the alcohol fridge. I know I started beating Samuel. And I remember leaving the house. I came back four days later. Leons' car was gone and divorce papers were shoved in the front door. When I walked inside there was still Samuel's blood on the wall, still glass on the floor, still the trauma and terror from four nights earlier. Samuel was gone, Leons was gone, and nearly all of their belongings were gone as well. I have very little left of them. I still regret my decision of that night and that is why I became a nun. No one knows this but me and Leons. I just can't believe that Samuel is dead."

"Yes, we are having a hard time believing it ourselves." I say.

"Would you like more water?" She asks.

"Yes, I think that would be nice. Thank you." I say.

"I'll be right back." She says walking downstairs again.

We keep rummaging around Sam's room. Clark is moving books around on the shelf but I hear a crinkling.

"Hold on a second, Clark." I say. "What's behind that Atlas?"

He pulls it out and a folded note is jammed between the back of the atlas and the back of the bookcase. He hands it to Jules who opens it and reads it quietly.

* * *

_September 30, 2013: Jules  
Hey babe; you probably just finished reading the journal entries I wrote when I was five. I didn't realize how bad my spelling was. The General taught me well, afterwards. The only thing he ever did was teach me. He taught me fear, politics, pain, justice, women, drugs, alcohol, driving, weapons, passion, books, and love. Once I learned to love, he broke me apart, destroyed me. I'm so sorry I had to leave you this way. I will not be upset nor angered when you go on with your life, marry another man and have beautiful little children. I want you to Jules. I'm dead, it is finished but you must live. Find my killer; destroy them just as they have destroyed me. I love you so much Jules and I will love you no matter where I am. You can do this sweetie. Please be careful. I love you babe.  
~Samuel W. Braddock_

Jules starts to cry and we prepare to leave. She takes the journal, note and atlas as we start walking downstairs. Spike is Googling the coordinates Sam left us. Saint Petersburg, Russia; here we come.

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**A/N:** Ok, thanks so much for reading! I hope you liked it! I'm sorry it takes me so long to write these chapters. I do have three new fanfics coming your way soon though! Also, if you wanted to read the rest of the book 'I'll Get Us Through This My Way' PM me and I can send you the rest of it through PM's either chapter by chapter on request or the whole thing at once. I had written 16 chapters on it, so there will be a lot of PM's. Let me know. Thanks so much for reading! Please review!


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9:** _**A/N:**__ Hi peeps! What's going on? I am soooo sorry I haven't posted in like forever! Life wasn't busy and then it became insanely busy. If you guys haven't seen my new story, guess what? I'm writing another story! As always, these chapters are long and I'm so sorry it takes me __**f-o-r-e-v-e-r**__ to get them posted. I hope you like them at least! Ok, enough of my ranting. Onward to Chapter 9! Please R&amp;R!_

* * *

St. Petersburg, Russia

Jules' POV:

We set out early this morning to catch our flight to St. Petersburg. Hopefully all of our answers will be found there. Sadly, I do not think that will happen. How hard is it to find who really killed Sam? Shouldn't they be trying to kill us too if they wanted Sam dead? I'm nervous as we step off of the plane in Russia and go through customs. It isn't a long flight between Latvia and Russia, but I'm exhausted. I asked Sarge during the flight if we had to do anything today. I'm really not feeling it. It has nearly been a week since we received the call from the General. Sam's mother really didn't make me feel any better about his childhood. I had no idea that this Xenia Wilson woman was his mother and an alcoholic mother and an abusive one at that! I just don't understand why anyone would want to hurt my little Sammy?! He always does exactly what he's told, no questions asked. He's perfect when it comes to that! We board a small bus that drives us from the airport to St. Petersburg. As it turns out, St. Petersburg is a beautiful city with cobblestone streets and beautiful houses. We walk through the streets and Clark, thank the Lord for letting him come with us, (he's been learning Russian out of school for three years and can speak it fluently); has been asking anyone if a Canadian military official used to live there. Much to my surprise, quite a few people say, "Yes." Only one person could provide us with directions. We all think that it wouldn't hurt to see the house Sam went to live in, even if it isn't owned by the Braddock family anyone. Sarge is the most surprised to see four heavily armed guards standing in front of the seven foot tall polished black iron fence though.

"Hello, do you speak English?" Clark asks in Russian.

One of the four guards nod. "Yes, what do you want child?" he questions icily.

"Hi, I am Sargent Parker. I'm a Strategic Response Unit officer in Canada. My team and I heard that a Canadian military official lived here and we would like to speak to him if possible." Sarge states, stepping up with the perfect mixture of curiosity and authority in his voice.

"This is still the General's residence. What do you wish to speak to him about?" the guard asks.

"Ah, now that I can actually trust you fine sir, the General has sent us to fetch some important items for him." Sarge states coolly.

"Oh, is that how you want to play?" the guard asks suspiciously.

I take a chance and speak up. "Yes, Jason's dear wife Jacqueline is my stepmother's aunt's cousin's stepbrother's step-cousin's sister's daughter's cousin. It's complicated." I say smiling.

The guard stands baffled at my confusing line of "family" relations. "Oh, I see. Well what do you do you need to fetch for them?"

"Jason said he needed three documents from his desk drawer that would help determine the financial expenses of the compounds in Pakistan. He needs them by tomorrow evening when the report is to be presented." I relay the slur of conjured up mess of words that seemingly made some sort of smashed sense in my flustered brain.

"Oh, well I suppose you can enter." The guard says typing in a key code as the iron fence swings open.

"Thank you, sir." I say flouncing through the gate with my team behind me.

My whole team walks through the gate and into the grand house. Surprisingly enough, the house is even more beautiful on the inside than it is on the outside if that's even possible. Sadly, we can't raid the house since Jason still owns it and could come back any time he wanted. Each room in the downstairs is just as beautiful as the next but the grand white spiral staircase is gorgeous. Sarge and Clark walk upstairs with me as Ed, Spike and Wordy search the downstairs. I walk dazzled by the décor trying to find Sam's room, if he even has one anymore here. Clark stays with me as Sarge checks out the rest of the upstairs. Sam's room isn't huge but it's a nice cozy size with plenty of space for a five year old. The walls are painted a rusty barn red with white trim and black furnishings. It's a little weird that there isn't any dust here at all. I know Sam hasn't been back in this room for at least three years so maybe Jason has had someone clean the house regularly. Clark points to a small jet black bookcase near Sam's bed.

"There are more journals." He says.

He kneels next to me as I gently tug the six expensive leather-back journals from the shelf.

"Hey Sarge, we found more journals." I call. Ed, Spike, Wordy and Sarge walk into the room simultaneously with a look of confusion on their face. "What's wrong?" I ask.

"There is only one toothbrush in Jason's bathroom and only men's clothes in the closet and dresser. I don't think any woman ever lived here." Ed states.

"And, that's supposed to mean something?" I ask confused. So what if no woman lived here.

"It's just supposed to mean that either Jacqueline never wanted to come here or she never knew about it." Sarge says.

"Oh, so you mean that this house is a secret?"

"Yes, it could be. Which makes me wonder, why is it a secret?" Spike points out. "Everything is thoroughly cleaned and washed, all the clothes are put away, the shower is wiped down, and papers are filed away. It seems like Jason hasn't been here for years though. The bed sheets are iron stiff, the desk drawers squeaky and jammed, and the one place someone forgot to dust was the door knobs. They're covered in like a half an inch of dust!"

"Ok, well let's see what Sam has to say about it." I say opening the first journal.

* * *

_**January 16, 1993: Dear St. Petersburg,**_

_**Daddy drove me to here last night after we packed everything up. He said that we were never going to go back to Latvia and that I am never to speak about Mommy again. He said that she is an awful woman and that he should never have married her and that he's so sorry that he did. I'm just glad last night is over. Daddy said he would stay with me at our new home for a little while before he starts to go back to work again. Daddy sat on the couch and held me all day cuddling me and giving me lots of hugs and kisses. That was the first time in a long time that he has done that. I'm so happy Daddy loves me. My arms are still bandaged but my head doesn't hurt anymore. Daddy had people calling him all day. It was funny watching him sigh and answer his cell phone all frustrated and giving those people short explanations to not bother him. Daddy just kept holding me and telling me that he loved me. I'm glad we're in Russia. I like it here better on the outskirts of St. Petersburg than I like Zilupe. Daddy says he's going to take me to the park tomorrow where I can ride one of his horses that he has. Apparently, it's his own private park and he has horses that he never told me about! Oh well, I'm going to ride them tomorrow. I have to eat dinner now but I will write about the horses tomorrow!**_

_**\- Samuel W. Braddock**_

* * *

Aww, poor Sammy. It hurts me to read about what he went through on a daily bases. At least Jason loved on him. I keep flipping through the journal until a particular entry catches my eye.

* * *

_**February 4, 1995: Dear St. Petersburg,**_

_** Daddy left really early this morning before the sun was even up. He came into my room and told me goodbye. He said he wouldn't be back for a few weeks and since Jacqueline, my new mother, is in Canada with my new two year old sister Natalie visiting family, I'm going to be picked up by Lily and Cam. I like to call them Mom and Dad but it can get a little confusing since Daddy is Daddy and Cam is Dad; but Cameron told me when we first met a long time ago to call him Dad. So it's Dad. They're supposed to come pick me up in a few hours. I can't wait to see them again. I just saw them in December for my seventh birthday, but even though they only live almost two hours away from St. Petersburg, Daddy says that Cam is busy too. Oh, did I tell you? Daddy is now the General of the Canadian Army! He's going to Kabul so they can go over his job requirements. He said something about Cam getting the job first but he turned it down and it went over to Daddy. It's a little confusing. I'm not sure I understand this whole army thing. I know it's what you're supposed to do when you're 18, and I will but I don't know how it works right now. Especially since I've never been to Canada and somehow Daddy is the General of the Army over there. But, he said something about there being a base or a convention in St. Petersburg all the time so we just live here. Maybe he'll explain it to me later. **_

_**Daddy left a note on the kitchen counter saying that Lily and Cam will come by soon. It's been a few hours since he left and I'm hungry. There isn't much food in the fridge that I can reach and only two bottles of water. I can't reach the sink. But it should be fine. I'll only be here until Cam comes for me. **_

_**I'm beginning to wonder if Cam is coming for me at all. It's dinner time and no one has called, no car has driven down the lane, no knock has sounded on the door. Why hasn't anyone come? I've drank half of one water bottle and eaten a little bit of food. I'm not very hungry. The house is freezing. Daddy must've turned the heat off. I've tried to open the front door and the back door. They're locked from the outside and I can't reach the door knob nor do I have a key. All of the windows are locked as well and I can't reach them either even standing on a chair. I'm really cold and tired so I just climb the stairs to my bedroom, do what I can reach in the bathroom and curl into bed under the covers. I don't know why the house is so cold. I just wish Cam would come get me. **_

_**-Samuel W. Braddock **_

* * *

_**February 5, 1995: Dear St. Petersburg,**_

_** It's so cold! My nose is all runny and my head hurts. I eat a few crackers for breakfast and drink some water. I wrap myself in a blanket and sit on the couch downstairs looking out the huge distant window for Cam's black Range Rover. All day, I sit and wait. My head hurts worse and I start to feel a little dizzy and lay down on the couch for a nap. I wake up near dinner-time hungry and cold. There is absolutely no heat in this house. I'm almost out of crackers and yogurt cups. I only have one bottle of water left. How long will I have to wait for Cam to come? Did he forget about me? No, Cam would never forget. Maybe Daddy forgot. Maybe he forgot to tell them about me. I'm starting to cough. My head just hurts so badly. I don't know what's wrong with me. I climb into bed again hungry and dizzy. Why did Daddy leave me here alone? I don't understand.**_

_**-Samuel W. Braddock**_

* * *

_**February 6, 1995: Dear St. Petersburg,**_

_** Whhhyyyyy?! Why me?! What did I do?! I'm cold and dizzy and coughing and hungry. I don't have any more food left. I found a warm spot in the house though. Curled up at the bottom of the couch with my blanket over me. It's warmer than anywhere else. I am so tired and just so dizzy. My head hurts and I keep coughing and sniffling. It's annoying. Why hasn't Dad come? I only have a little bit of water left. All day, no one calls, no one drives down the lane, no black car drives down the road in general. I'm pretty sure Daddy left me here to die alone. What did I do wrong? I thought I did everything he asked of me. What did I do to deserve this? I don't know but it must've been something awful. It's so cold here and my stomach hurts. All the coughing hurts my lungs. I'm so hungry.**_

_**-Samuel W. Braddock**_

* * *

_**February 7, 1995: Dear St. Petersburg,**_

_** I'm cold. I'm hungry. I'm out of water. My head hurts. My whole body aches. I think my head is 100 lbs. It's so heavy and so hard to hold up. I lie on the couch for a while then lie on the floor next to the couch and fall asleep. Why did Daddy leave me?**_

_**-Samuel W. Braddock **_

* * *

_**February 8, 1995: St. Petersburg,**_

_**I'm so dizzy. I feel sick. I think I'm going to die.**_

* * *

_Cam's POV:_

_Well this is a surprise. Lily and I get a call from Jason this morning asking us to pick Sam up from his house and keep him with us for a few weeks. Of course we will. I saw Sam in December for his seventh birthday but I don't get to see him very often anymore since Jason married Jacqueline. He likes her a lot and she's nice, but she has this air about her and I can just tell, she's going to start abusing Sam like Jason has started doing. It doesn't help that Jason has started drinking again. Lily and I love having Sam with us. Lily isn't able to have children due to uterine cancer she had when she was 16 years old. It was so unheard of then to have it that young, but I love her so much either way. We've always wanted children but I'm in a high ranking army position, right under Jason actually and Lily's happy to just have Sam come over often. It' hour drive over to Jason's house but it's definitely worth it to have Sammy with us for a few weeks. He loves it here in Vyborg though. We drive down Jason's long lane to his house at 10:15 in the morning. Lily and I walk up the cobble stone walkway that leads to Jason's front door. I unlock it with my key and allow Lily to walk in front of me as we enter the grand house. The first thing that hits me in the face is how cold and quiet it is in here._

_"Hey Sam? Sam its Dad. Where are you buddy?" I call walking through the 1st floor of his house._

_I poke my head in the living room as Lily walks upstairs to see if he's in his room. I almost leave but then I spot a little heap lying next to the couch. "Sam? Hey Sam, talk to me son. Sam! Look at me! Lily! Lily, come here!" I call kneeling next Sam, terrified as he isn't moving. I roll him over onto his back and find that Sam is passed out cold._

_"Cam? Cam, what's wrong? Are you hurt?" Lily asks frantically hopping down the stairs and finding me in the living room next to Sam. "Sam?!" she cries when she sees him lying unresponsive on the floor. "Cameron what happened?" She asks placing two of her gentle fingers on Sam's neck trying to find a pulse for the 7 year old boy we consider to be our son._

_"I have no idea! He's much thinner than he was in December though. Look Lily, you can see his ribs." I say gently tugging Sam's shirt up so my wife can see our son's protruding ribs. "Check the refrigerator and see if Jason left a note somewhere."_

_Lily nods and quickly walks to the kitchen. I pinch the skin on the back of Sam's little hand; it takes ½ a minute for it to bounce back into place._

_"Lily, he's really dehydrated. Can you bring me some water?" I ask._

_When Lily walks back into the living room with a glass of water, I'm cradling Sam close to my chest._

_"Here Cam," she says handing me the glass of water. "There was no food in the fridge, at least nothing he could've reached and two empty water bottles. Jason left a note on the counter saying that we'd be by later that day to pick him up but it was dated for four days ago! He must've forgotten to call. Poor Sammy all alone wondering if anyone will find him. He's too short to reach the sink and the door was locked from the outside!"_

_"I'll call him about it later. We need to focus on waking Sam up." I say, struggling to stay calm. I dip my fingers in the water and gently rub them on Sam's dry, cracked lips. He doesn't make any attempt to lick the water off though. "Come on Sammy, it's time to wake up son." I say softly cradling Sam even closer to me and kissing the top of his head._

_Much to my surprise, Sammy starts to cough and stir. His little blue eyes open slowly and looks confused at me._

_"D-Dad?" Sam asks painfully quiet._

_"It's ok Sammy. I'm here now. You'll be ok son." I soothe._

_"C-Cam? Dad? Where's Daddy? Why did he leave me here alone?" Sam asks._

_As the young boy looks into my eyes, he seems even more sick, even more pale, even more scared. "I don't know Sam. I don't know. You remember my wife Lily from the last time I saw you right?"_

_Sammy nods his head weakly._

_"Hi Sam." Lily says kindly._

_"Ok Sam. Lily and I are going to take you back to our house. Do you remember where that is?" I wait for Sam to nod before continuing. "We're going to get you healthy again but do you want to grab anything before we go? Lily's going to pack you some clothes and your toothbrush but do you want anything from your room, son?" I ask._

_Sam nods his head yes again. "C-can I bring my journal? Daddy bought it for me for my birthday."_

_"Of course, Sammy. How 'bout I carry you up to your room. Does that sound good?" I ask and Sam nods his head. "Alright, up you go." I say as I stand and put Sam on the floor for a second before I lift him up again, placing him on my hip. I walk up the steps as Lily is walking down them holding a bag. "Did you get everything we don't have?"_

_"Yes, I'm going to take this out to the car and get the heat on, ok?"_

_"Yep, we'll be right down." I carry Sam to his room and let him point to where his journal is so I can take it off the shelf and hand it to him._

_When we get back downstairs, I let Sam stand on his own two feet while I dress Sam in his coat, hat, scarf and gloves. "Ready Sammy?"_

_Sam just nods his head 'yes.' I hold his little hand as we walk out into the freezing cold winter tundra to the thoroughly heated Range Rover. I help Sam into his car-seat in the backseat (I always keep one in the car in case we have to suddenly pick Sam up) before I climb into the driver's seat. I adjust my rearview mirror so I can see my little son's pale face. I pull out of Jason's long lane and onto the deserted road driving towards Vyborg._

_"Dad?" Sam asks quietly._

_"Yeah Sammy." I say looking in the rearview mirror at my son's very pale and grey face._

_"Dad I'm really cold; and hungry."_

_"Ok son, I'm goin to pull over." I say worriedly as I navigate the Rover through the semi-plowed shoulder of the road and put the Rover in park. He shouldn't be cold, the heat in here is cranking on high. "Lily, I hate to ask you this sweetie, but can you get out and grab the blanket from the trunk?"_

_"Of course."_

_"Thank you." We both open out doors and climb out. Lily goes to the trunk as I open the backseat door and climb in next to Sam. "Hey Sammy." I say as I pull the door shut and reach for a bottle of water that is in the cup-holder up front. I unbuckle Sam from his car-seat, sit him in my lap and wrap my arms around him. "Sammy, you're burning up. Can you drink some water for me?"_

_Sam just moans and curls further into my chest. "Dad, Daddy left me. Daddy left me to die all alone." He sniffles._

_I rest my cheek on the top of Sam's hat. "I'm so sorry, Sammy. I should've called Jason. I should've come by and picked you up. I should've known Sammy. I am so, so, sorry Sam." I apologize._

_"D-Dad I-I-I'm re-really, re-really co-cold." Sam stutters and shakes._

_I hold him closer just as Lily flings the back left door open and climbs in with the thick fleece blanket._

_"Cameron, his lips are turning purple." Lily points out as she thrust the blanket into my hands._

_"Thank you, Lily." Looking down at my sun and watching his eyes starting to close I whisper, "Come on son, stay awake. We're going to get you warm, Sammy. I promise." I say tightly wrapping the blanket around Sam's frail body._

_Concern is written all over my wife's face as he presses her hand into our son's forehead. Sam doesn't even have the strength to move or talk anymore. He still shakes even with the Range Rover's heat cranking, the thick fleece blanket wrapped around him, all of his winter clothing still on and being held tightly in my arms. Lily coaxes Sam into drinking a few small sips of water before a few more sips brings nearly all the water back up again. I gently rock Sam while Lily dabs the water off our son's chin and lips._

_"It's ok, Sammy. It's ok." Lily soothes._

_Sam moans as I pass him to Lily. I quickly climb out of the backseat and into the front and start to drive._

_"Cameron, what are we going to do?"_

_"I'm going to try to get him home. If he doesn't get any better in two hours, I'll have to drive him to the ER. What do you think it is Lily?" I ask glancing at my sick son wrapped in my wife's arms in the backseat as I carefully drive through the still slushy roads from the recent snow._

_"The flu?" she guesses._

_The hour and forty-five minute drive is relatively silent. My wife and I exchange worried glances as Sam shudders and shakes quietly. By the time I pull into the garage connected to our large two story, stone plated house, I'm in a total sweat from having the heat on so high. I step out of the Rover and walk to the connection door to unlock it. My wife hesitantly climbs out of the backseat holding Sam who is still wrapped up in the blanket. As I turn around to face her, she winces when I see Sam lying limply in her arms._

_"Lily! Why didn't you tell me?! How long has he been out? Lily, we have to take him to the hospital." I exclaim climbing back into the car already._

_"Cam," Lily tries. "Cameron! Listen to me!" she shouts almost in an angry tone. When I whip around startled she continues in a much softer, quieter tone. "Cameron, he's just sleeping. I was rocking him on the drive over here. He needs to rest. The last thing he needs is to be poked and prodded and asked questions. He just needs to sleep. Please Cam, you know Katarina will bring us a few IV's from the hospital if we need them. Just let him sleep, Cameron."_

_I just sort of stare at her and slowly climb back out of the car. I hold the door to the house open as Lily walks through and carries Sam upstairs to his bedroom. I follow her up the steps and watches as Lily undresses Sam and carefully redresses him in a pair of warm pajamas we had in his dresser. Sam is here a lot, if you can't tell. The bag my wife had brought with us hasn't made it into the house yet. I pull a section of the fuzzy sheets on Sam's bed back so she can lay our son down. We can hear Sam subconsciously let out a small sigh when his small head rests on his oversized fluffy pillow. I walk around to the right side of Sam's bed where the window is and tug the curtains shut. Lily gently pulls the covers over our son, kisses his fevered forehead and quietly leads me out of his room. I follow her downstairs and make coffee for us both. Lily goes out to the garage to fetch the bag of Sam's clothes and journal. We both sit on the couch in the living room and drink our coffee. Lily curls into my chest and starts to cry softly. I hold her close to me and comb my fingers through her soft, beautiful hair._

_"It's ok, Lily. It's ok sweetie. He's going to get better." I murmur._

_Noon rolls around and Lily quietly goes upstairs to check on Sam while I fix lunch for us. She comes back down saying that he's still sleeping but she thinks his fever is rising. We spend a few minutes eating before I walk upstairs to Sammy's room. He sleeps soundly but shivers in the height of his fever. At two o'clock, Lily checks his temperature with a thermometer. It reads 103.1 degrees Fahrenheit. His hands are clammy and his skin is too hot._

_"Cam, we have to do something."_

_"Ok, why don't we take him to our family physician? Dr. George has seen him before. It won't take but fifteen minutes to drive there." I say._

_Lily agrees and goes to put a sweatshirt and sweatpants over Sam's pajamas while I open the garage and start the Rover. She comes out to the car a few minutes later carrying Sam with all of his winter gear on as well._

_"Ready?" I ask as she climbs in the front seat next to me, buckling and holding Sam wrapped up in a blanket in her arms._

_"Yes." She says simply as she brushes her fingers against our son's cheek._

_The fifteen minute drive to Dr. George's office feels longer than that. We first wait in the waiting room then in an examination room. Sam is sleeping the whole time as Lily lays him down on the table and takes off his many shirt layers as Dr. George instructs her to do so. As the doctor starts his examination of Sam, we stand nervously next to our son. My little Sammy gasps sharply and starts to open his eyes as soon as Dr. George's cold stethoscope presses against his hot chest._

_"Shhh, shhhh, Sammy. It's ok, sweetie." My wife soothes gently brushing her fingers against his pale cheek. My son calms instantly at her touch. "That's it Sam. Do you remember Dr. George, sweetie? You've seen him quite a few times now."_

_A quizzical look wipes across Sam's face before he ever-so slightly nods his head 'yes.'_

_Dr. George continues his examination of our son once he says hello to Sammy. By the time Dr. George is finished, Sam is sound asleep again in the wake of his fever. The kind doctor focuses his attention on us now._

_"Cameron, Lily, he has the flu. Let's start with that. There's not much I can do for him there, but he is also developing pneumonia. I can give you a pill prescription for medicine that will keep the nausea down. You can also give him pain killers if he needs them. Just keep him hydrated and let him rest. I'd prefer if he'd stay in bed, but if you have to move him just make it short and comfortable for him. Call me if you have any questions and I'd like to see him in two weeks if that's possible."_

_I turn to Lily and say, "Yes, we can do that."_

_"Good, I'll see you three then." Dr. George says before leaving us alone in the room again._

_"Lily, I'm going to schedule the next appointment and pay. Can you get his shirts back on again and meet me by the front door?" I ask her._

_She just nods her head and starts buttoning Sam's pajama shirt on him once more as I walk out to schedule and pay. A few minutes later Lily meets me by the door holding Sam wrapped up in the blanket again. I lead her out to the Range Rover and help her into the passenger's side. I drive to the pharmacy and pick up Sam's prescription before driving home again. Lily carries our son up to his bedroom, removes everything that is on top of his pajamas while I rub some water on his dry lips. Lily and I are very relieved when Sam attempts to lick the water off. I continue with the water and Sam keeps licking until he's too tired to open his mouth and move his tongue. I gently tug Lily out of his room and downstairs again. We read the instructions for the prescription and wake Sam up just enough for him to swallow the pill without choking to death on it. An hour later I climb the stairs again to check on him. I didn't know Lily was following me until I turned around preparing to leave my son's room._

_"How are we supposed to keep him hydrated when he's sound asleep and too tired to lick?"_

_She just shrugs her shoulders and says, "I'm going to call Katarina and ask her if she can bring us a few IV's from the hospital when her shift is over and she is driving back to St. Petersburg."_

_Katarina agrees whole-heartedly and says she'll be by our house around 5 o'clock pm. When 5 finally rolls around, a small black pick-up truck pulls down our lane. I'm surprised to see Kyle step out of the driver's seat as Kat climbs out of the passenger's side. Kyle wraps his arm around Kat's waist and tugs her close to him. Lily opens the door for them and kindly hurries them inside. Kyle takes Katarina's coat off of her before removing his own. Lily leads them into the living room as I bring everyone a mug of hot coffee. Katarina and Kyle sit close together on the couch in the living room as Lily and I sit in chairs cattycornered and on the opposite ends of the couch. Kat turns to Lily and starts discussing her and Kyle's plans for their wedding in late June of this year._

_I turn to Kyle and sigh. "Kyle, son what are you doing marring at 18?"_

_My "son" turns to face me, a huge smile spreading across his face. "I'm marrying the sweetest, kindest, most loving, gentle woman I've ever met. I'm marrying the love of my life, Dad."_

_I smile as he wraps his arm around his fiancé, pulls her close to him and kisses her cheek._

_"You take care of her, Kyle."_

_"I would never dream of doing anything else."_

_Kat leans over gently kissing her fiancé on his lips. "I love you Kyle." She whispers._

_"I love you more Katarina."_

_Kat and Kyle laugh at each other's proclamation as Lily and I laugh at the sight of them laughing._

_"Kyle, this is the happiest I've seen you in a long time." I say remembering all of the things Kyle went through as a child and young teenager and how much Lily and I helped him and Katarina._

_"That's because it is Dad." My son says smiling at me, Lily and Kat._

_Once the giggles settle, my "daughter" turns to us and her fiancé. "Do you guys remember how we met?" she asks excitedly._

_Lily and I have heard the story many times but nothing was going to stop Katarina._

_"So," she starts. "I had just turned 15, it's hard to believe that was only four years ago, and I was riding my bike down to Sabrina's house in St. Petersburg. You guys remember her right? She was my best friend. Well, anyway, I was almost there and I was crossing a street and no one was coming so I went across. Out of the corner of my eye, I see this small car flying towards me. His head was down, probably texting his girlfriend or something. He obviously didn't see me and I saw him a split-second before he hit me. I flew off my bike in to the road a good 10 yards from where I was. I don't remember what happened after that, I assume I was unconscious because when I woke up, I saw this attractive 21 year old guy kneeling next to me on the road talking into his phone to the paramedics. When he saw I was awake, he started stroking my hair and telling me that he's so sorry and that the paramedics were coming. Now, he wasn't nearly as attractive as Kyle is. Anyhow, there I was lying in the road with a searing pain in my right leg. The paramedics finally came and took me to the hospital. The guy, who told me his name was Jacob, rode with me and held me in the waiting room as I cried. He left for a few minutes to talk to the lady at the front desk and then I see this very attractive teenager about my age sitting across the room, holding his left arm all alone. He looked up and saw me and smiled. I will never forget that smile, will I Kyle?" she pauses glancing lovingly at her fiancé._

_Kyle smiles back at her, "No, you won't." my 'son' says._

_"Jacob was taking an awfully long time at the desk so this boy walks over and sits down next to me. He smiled a sweet, sheepish smile and told me his name was Kyle. He asked me what happened and I told him, then I asked him the same question and he said," Kat stops and looks at Kyle._

_He sighs and smiles. "I said I had been doing tricks on my skateboard and someone put a dumb rock in front of my wheel and made me fly off. I was pretty sure my arm was broken especially since the bone was poking through my skin. Kat wasn't in good shape either. My beautiful Katarina was all cut and bruised and bleeding. Her right leg was twisted at a severe angle, blood trickling down from her knee. My poor little Kat was a bit of a feisty kitty and when I tried to call her Kat instead of Katarina she ever-so gracefully smacked me across the face. However, I was drawn by her fury and did not move even when this Jacob guy came back to tell her that her older sister is coming. She asked me where my parents were and why they weren't here. I told my little kitty-cat that both of my parents had died 2 years earlier and my older brother was taking care of me. She expressed her apologies and said her mother died during her child-birth and her father died from cancer a year and a half ago. Her older sister was watching her. So there we were, 14 and 15 years old, parentless, older siblings watching us, and sitting in a hospital each with a broken limb. And what do you know? I give Kat my number and here comes Lily to take me and fix my broken arm. Mom, you took great care of me. Later that night, at my brother's house Kat actually called me. We agreed to start dating but only after Katarina laid down her rules and I laid out mine. We both agreed to keep our abstinence until marriage, respect each other's body, mine and beliefs. As soon as I ended the call with Kat thrilled with my new girlfriend and my first date night approaching, Lily called to check on me. She said that she would like to check on my cast the next day at her house. I guess you heard my brother in the background drinking and cussing and smoking dope. Lucky for me, you came and picked me up, taking me to your old house in St. Petersburg. I remember that I was ticked about having to sit in the backseat of your car but then I saw Katarina in the passenger seat and suddenly being in the back was perfectly fine. Mom, as soon as I climbed into your car I remember you asking me if I had been drinking or smoking pot. I said 'no' to both and that was the truth. My brother had been though. He always did that. Either alone or with a bunch of friends, he always did that stuff. Well, needless to say, I was pretty excited seeing Kat again and Mom you took us both to your house a lot after that. I guess your job at the hospital had some pretty crazy hours. Kat and I have been dating ever since." Kyle finishes kissing Kat on her lips again._

_"Yes, you two were quite a bit of work then, but I'm so glad everything worked out." My wife states._

_"Well," Katarina starts. "I have the IV's with me so I can show you how to put them in, Dad. Mom, you already know how to do it, but you can still watch."_

_We agree and lead Kyle and Katarina upstairs to Sam's room. As we're walking up the steps I notice that Kyle seems to be acting different. Not in a bad way but just tense and nervous almost._

_"Son, is everything ok?" I ask._

_Kyle glances at me a bit startled but pulls off a shaky smile and says, "Yeah Dad, I'm ok. I was just thinking."_

_I notice Kat study her fiancé quizzically before turning to me. "He just had a huge migraine in the truck. The medicine probably hasn't kicked in quite yet, Dad. You'll be ok, won't you Kyle?"_

_My son nods weakly. "Yeah, I'll be fine, Kat."_

_I can tell he's still thinking about something and it can't be very pleasant from the look on his face._

* * *

**_Kyle's POV: June 26, 1994_**

_I'm 17 years old, 18 in November. I've been in boot camp in St. Petersburg since I was 15, I signed up just a year after I met Katarina. It's a bit weird that I've been living in an apartment in the city with Kat next door and on the weekends we both go visit Mom and Dad. It's almost 5 am and I have to be at the camp facility, which is really just a whole bunch of sprawling warehouses, in about a half hour. I walk next door to kiss Katarina goodbye like I always do, grab my bike, and start peddling towards the warehouses. The day starts out like it typically does with a few minutes of chatting before General Braddock, who thinks he's some big hot-shot, makes us run drill after drill after drill. It's a little excessive. The General's son, Sam, is like my 6th or 7th cousin. I'm on Jacqueline's side of the family. Sam and I haven't ever really talked to each other in great lengths. I mean, he's only 6 ½ and The General makes him sit behind a table and amuse himself for 9-16 hours a day. I feel bad for that kid. I mean, half the time I'm bored so you know he's bored out of his mind. It's nearly 11 o'clock and I notice my little cousin starting to stand. The General is in the middle of explaining a drill to us so Sam just waits until his father has stopped giving instructions. We start doing the drill, but I hear Sam ask very quietly, "Sir? Can I have a drink of water?" Now hold on a second. Do you see a problem with that because I certainly do! A kid should not be calling his dad 'sir' for starters. He's six! Second of all, the kid should have access to water at all times. I mean, we do. Why doesn't he? Anyway, the General looks at him and get this; he has the audacity to say, "No, sit down." What a loser! Ok, so his kid wants water and he says 'no sit down.' We started 5 ½ hours ago and the kid hasn't had any water! That's insane! Poor Sam just looks a little surprised and hurt at his father before returning to his seat._

_Five hours later, my little cousin cautiously steps out to his father again._

_"Sir? Can I use the restroom?" he asks quietly._

_Now anyone who's ever been around kids or had one of their own, they know what a kid looks like when they have to go to the bathroom. That was exactly the look Sam had. The General just glares hatefully at his son before snarling "Sit down." My cousin drops his head down and sits back down. A half hour later, Sammy stands up again and waits until his father is finished speaking._

_"Da-Sir? I really need to use the restroom." He pleads._

_The General suddenly whips around smacking Sam hard across the face. I can practically hear Sam's head snap to the right as the whole room gasps and falls silent. Sam starts to sniffle as blood trickles out of his nose. I start pushing my way from the back of the building to the front._

_"Kyle," one of my best friends, Maxim starts, trying to pull me back in line. "What are you doing?"_

_I pry his hand off of my arm. "I'm going to break bad on the man that just smacked his son across the face."_

_"Think about this, man." Drake, my other best friend that was standing next to me in line, begins. "He is the General of the entire Canadian army and you intend to break bad on him?"_

_"Yeah, I do. He just smacked his kid for wanting to pee. I'm going to teach him a few things about messing with my family." I say fiercely._

_I'm pushing my way through the first row of men when I hear The General growl, "I said, sit." Like Sam is some kind of dog. He's grabbing Sam by the arm, really man-handling him when I make it to the very front._

_"Leave him alone." I state angrily keeping my voice loud and strong._

_The General's head snaps up to look at me. He throws Sam's arm down causing my cousin to stumble backwards and collapse onto the hard cement floor. "What did you say?" he challenges me coldly._

_"I said, leave him alone." I growl this time furious at The General for abusing his son and Lord knows how long he's been doing it._

_"Ha! Or what." The General sneers._

_"Or I'll file a restraining order against you or have Sam taken away from you altogether." I state keeping one eye on Sam._

_"Yeah, who would believe you? No one would dare to go against me in court, would they?"_

_"Yes, we would. All of these men behind me saw exactly what you did. You physically abused your son and that is probably why he is always cut and bruised and completely exhausted every single day. Whether you abuse him or your wife does, you just smacked him for absolutely no reason and you need to pay the consequences." I state strongly. In my peripheral vision I see the group of men behind me stepping closer to us._

_"Oh, I see. You've all teamed up against me haven't you? What a pity. It's too bad that there were some awfully good leaders in this group that will never become anything more than a typical, low-paid soldier. That goes for you too, Kyle. I'll be nice and give you a choice. You can step back and shut up and I'll pretend none of this ever happened or you can keep fighting your pitiful little fight and never become an officer. Kyle, you would be a wonderful officer, just step back and stay the h*** out of my business." The General states._

_I look down at Sam whimpering on the floor. "No." I say kneeling down and scooping Sam up, placing him on my right hip. His right arm crosses in front of my chest, his hand grasping for my left shoulder as his left arm wraps around my back. "No, I'm taking Sam to the restroom." I state glaring at the General._

_I practically feel the heat from his blazing eyes burning into me. I turn to leave with Sam just as The General whips out a pistol from his coat pocket and fires the weapon. My breath stops in my throat as I gasp and struggle to breathe when the bullet slams into my vest. I don't think it went through but these are only practice vest and not nearly as bullet-proof as Kevlar. I feel all of the colour drain out of my face as I blink rapidly trying to control my racing heart. Maxim and Drake gather close to me and each place a hand on my arms trying to steady me. I take small shallow gasping breaths and then I hear Sam starting to cry. I look down at his arm that's crossed over my chest and see a large, bleeding scrape from where the bullet grazed it before hitting the part of my vest that covers my left lung. Fury immediately boils up as I hold Sam's injured arm and shove it in his father's face angrily yelling, "Look what you've done!"_

_"C'mon, Sammy. Let's get you cleaned up, buddy." I murmur as I leave the room, take Sam to the mini hospital part of the warehouse and then take him to the restroom._

* * *

**_Maxim's POV:_**

_I can hardly believe it. He just shot Kyle and not to mention his own son. The kid is six years old! As soon as Kyle leaves with Sam, three or four heavily armed officials burst into the room, weapons drawn, yelling for us to get down and put our hands behind our heads. All two hundred fifty of us drop to the floor and do as we're told. I cautiously lift my head and see the General still holding his pistol down at his side._

_"What happened, sir?" an official snarls._

_"There was just a small fight. A small mob really, trying to take my son from me." He states calmly._

_"Oh so you just pull out a pistol and starting firing off shots, right?" the second official states sarcastically really getting in the General's face._

_The General opens his mouth to speak but the third official pipes up. "Don't try to defend yourself. We saw what happened. All of it. We need to talk." He says taking the pistol before turning around towards us. "You may stand. Break for half an hour. We will meet you back here. Don't be late."_

_So the General leaves with the officials and we all disperse. Half an hour later, Kyle and Sam are back in the room. Sam's arm is bandaged but Kyle refused to be examined. He claims the bullet did no real harm. I hardly believe it. These vests are just as protective as a sheet of paper and his face is still far too pale, but I have to let it slide. The General walks back into the room with the three officials and one door guard whose name is Johnny. He's a nice kid. Johnny sets up a table with soft chairs on the right side of the room near the back so he and Sam can sit together and play games quietly. The three officials stand in the front of the room watching the General. Any time he starts walking anywhere near his son, they stop him either verbally or forcefully. Johnny and Sam seem to be having a good time together and Kyle's happy that The General isn't allowed near him. Drake and I still stand next to Kyle a little worried for his well-being, but he seems to be fine. That is until he suddenly crashes to his knees gasping for air._

_"Kyle! Kyle! Talk to me!" I shout as his right arm wraps around his chest and his left hand keeps him semi-stable on his knees._

_Drake looks horrified up at me as the three rows in front of us turn around to see what is happening. Kyle's eyes start to glaze over a bit as the officials up front are still trying to figure out why everyone has stopped. Out of the corner of my eye I see Sam cautiously starting to walk towards us. Kyle struggles to gasp more and more as he is in a constant, extreme pain cycle. As Sam walks closer to us, Kyle spots him._

_"Kyle, talk to me buddy. Talk to me!" Drake yells._

_"G-get Sam out of here." He struggles to whisper._

_Drake just looks helplessly at me, places a hand on Kyle's back and states, "Ok, buddy." He quickly walks towards Sam. I can barely hear him say, "Hey, Sam. You want to go for a walk? C'mon, let's go for a walk." Before gently taking Sam's small hand in his own and quickly leading him out of the room via the back door. By now, the officials are wandering around the room and more men stand over me. I point to three I know really well and motion for them to come over._

_"Get him on his back and keep his pulse up." I state before pushing my way through the crowd to the front where the General stands. When I finally reach him, I'm out of breath and my last nerve has frayed. "Where'd it hit him?" I demand._

_The General glares at me before saying, "The chest."_

_My face drains with realization that Kyle could be in whole lot worse trouble than I thought. I whip around and yell, "Get his vest off! Get a medic in here!" to the men I assigned to stay with Kyle. The General smirks as I turn around to him again. "You will regret this."_

_"Really? Will I?" he challenges._

_I shove my hands into his chest as I spin around to hurry back to Kyle. I smirk as I hear him falling backwards and catching himself._

_"Don't touch me you little," he starts._

_"Don't touch your son." I snap back and rush to my friend._

_When I arrive a mere minute later, Kyle's vest and shirt have been stripped off of him and two medics are lifting him onto a stretcher. One of them places an oxygen mask over his face as he not only struggles to breathe, but also to stay conscious. As they rush out of the room, I'm right next to him. There's no way I'm going to leave him now. We hurry down the hallways and when we come to a connecting one, I see Drake and Sam. The kid, the six year old one I mean, starts running towards us and nearly manages to tackle me to the ground sobbing hysterically._

_"Kyle? Kyle?!" he asks frantically almost as if he doesn't know which one of us is Kyle._

_"S-Sammy?" Kyle chokes after successfully ripping his oxygen mask off._

_"Kyle? Kyle I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" Sam sobs in Russian as he reaches for Kyle's hand that is limply hanging down off of the stretcher._

_"S-Sam, i-it's going to be ok, buddy. Ok cuz?" Kyle slurs as his eyes drop shut._

_We all watch in horror as his body slackens. Fingers fly for his neck, Sam screams, Drake burst into tears and I just stand in shock._

_"His pulse is dropping! We're losing him!" one of the medics shouts as they start sprinting down the hall to the OR with Kyle._

_I glance terrified at Drake before dashing off after them. By the time I reach the OR, they have the door locked and curtains tightly pulled shut. I just sit and breathe for a few minutes before calling Kyle's girlfriend, Katarina. She starts yelling at me on the phone; blaming me for not making him be examined and for letting him get shot. It's not worth it to argue back with her. She says that she will be there as soon as she can. I sit alone outside of the operating room for a good two hours before Katarina arrives. Another three hours later, the surgeons wearily step out of the room._

_"How is he?" Katarina asks leaping up._

_"Well," a dark brown haired surgeon starts. "He made it through surgery fine. There were some complications but his condition is stable and he is currently in Post-Op ICU until he wakes from the anesthetic."_

_"Why is he in ICU if his condition is stable?" Katarina presses._

_"It is just a precaution. If something suddenly went wrong, we would want someone to be there as a monitor so we could save him." Another surgeon pipes up._

_"Is he going to be ok though?" I ask. "I mean, what happened?"_

_"Yes, we expect him to make a full recovery. What I assume happened was when he was shot; the bullet went through his vest, but not all the way through. His movement probably caused the bullet to wiggle itself in between his ribs and poke its way through his left lung. When the bullet entered his lung, it obviously caused extreme pain and made it very difficult for him to breathe." The first surgeon explains._

_We continue to talk for a few minutes before we were told that we could visit Kyle. He has just woken up and is way out of it. I don't think he knows where he is. He talks with me and Katarina for a little while before asking to see Sam. I find Drake and Sam and bring them to Kyle. They talk for a short time before Kyle's pain killers kick in and send him into sleep again. I'm so relieved that he's going to be ok, but he sure scared the crap out of me. Needless to say, the General is suspended from work for the next two weeks for physical assault and child abuse. I'm not sure who Sam goes home with, but it isn't the General….he isn't even allowed to be in the same room as Sam at least until this whole mini court case is over. The big-wig in Canada caught wind of the problems over here and is breaking bad on the General. I'd like to see his butt getting whipped every once in a while._

* * *

_**Cam's POV:**_

_"Kyle, you sure you're ok?" I ask before we enter Sam's room._

_"Yeah, Dad. I was just thinking about the first time I really met Sam last year." My son answers._

_"Ok." I say letting the subject drop temporarily. "Both of you have had your flu shots, right?"_

_Both my son and my daughter nod their heads yes._

_"Good, 'cause he has the flu."_

_I open the door to Sammy's room and allow everyone to enter before me. Kat and Lily file in quietly but I hear my son gasp._

_"Oh my gosh, Sam. What happened to you buddy?" Kyle whispers, kneeling next to Sam's bed._

_Sam is fast asleep as Kyle strokes his pale cheek and while Kat pulls his sleeve up to insert an IV into his tiny forearm. She hangs the bag from a post she has brought with her. Lily and I kiss Sam's forehead as we start to leave._

_"Dad?" Kyle asks._

_"Yeah son?"_

_"Can I have a minute alone with him?" he asks._

_"Yeah, sure son." I say ushering Lily and Kat out of the room. "We'll be downstairs if you need anything."_

_"Ok, I won't be long." Kyle promises._

* * *

**_Kyle's POV:_**

_"Hey, Sammy." I murmur to the seven year old boy while I sit on the floor next to his bed. "You have to get better, Sam. You have to grow old with me and Kat. You can't die this young, buddy. You just can't."_

_I know I'm jumping too far ahead of myself, thinking that he's going to die, but with the flu anything can happen. Especially since it looks as if he's had this more than one day and he's already really skinny. He appears very unhealthy and underweight. Poor kid._

_"Alright buddy, I'll see you tomorrow." I say quietly, standing up and kissing Sam's pale cheek._

_I walk downstairs and Kat and I prepare to leave. Every day Kat and I stop by Mom and Dad's house to check on them and Sam. When Dad finally tells us the whole story behind why Sam is so sick, I start to dislike Jason even more. How could you do that to your own son? I know it was probably an accident but still, he could've left more food in the fridge or something. By the way that it looks, Sam already had the flu when his father left. Obviously Jason doesn't believe in giving his children flu vaccinations. On the second day we visit Sam, he's awake and his eyes are a bit brighter. He seems to be pleased to see us. Ever since last year, Jason completely cut all of my contact with him. He didn't take him to the base very much either after he was busted. Maybe his wife Jacqueline stayed with him and Natalie. I don't know, my family's a whole big mess and I assume it always will be. The third day Kat and I stop by, as soon as we step into the house, the whole atmosphere felt different. It was tense and charged. Both Mom and Dad have worry creased in their faces even as they try to smile._

_"Mom, Dad, what's wrong?" I ask when they lead us into the living room and onto the couch._

_They don't answer me at first. Kat snuggles into my chest wanting comfort in all of this tension and uncertainty. My poor little Katarina begins to tremble in my arms. I know her body used to react to tension and nervousness like this and she used to shake really badly but after a few months of going to the doctor and a therapist, they thought they had fixed it. Sometimes, she would even get to the point of shaking so badly it would look as if she was having a seizure._

_"Kat, baby, what's going on? Why are you shaking again?"_

_"I, I don't know." She answers peering up at me her beautiful eyes filled with fear._

_"Shhh, shhhh, its ok. You're going to be ok, sweetie. You're going to be just fine, Katarina." I murmur as her shaking becomes worse and totally out of her control._

_"Kyle, I'm scared." She whispers as each of her muscles twitch uncontrollably._

_Even through her shirt, I can see her heart fluttering viciously in her chest. Her eyes begin to lose their focus and for a minute I'm worried that she's going to die right there._

_"I know baby. Just take nice, deep breaths sweetie. There you go. That's it. A few more, Kat." I say keeping my voice soft and soothing as my fiancé's shaking settles into a manageable quivering. "Do you feel ok, Kat?" I ask knowing that after one of these episodes she has sometimes become violently ill._

_She glances down at herself before looking up towards me and nodding her head._

_"Ok, tell me if you start feeling otherwise alright? I'm here to help you baby not to judge you." I remind her._

_"I know." She responds softly, before gently kissing my lips. "Thank you."_

_"No thanks needed." I respond, kissing her soft, luscious lips back._

_"Would you two like to Sam now or wait a few more minutes." Dad asks._

_I look at Kat before saying, "I think we're good now. Can we see him?"_

_"Of course, dear." Mom states standing. "You know where to go. Your father will be up in a few minutes. I need his help starting dinner." She says tugging him towards the kitchen after glancing at the clock that reads 8:36 pm._

_"Ok, we won't be too long. I'm sorry we came so late, I didn't realize how long my shift was." Kat states glancing downwards a bit ashamed._

_"No, no its fine, sweetie. Why don't you two stay for dinner? It's already late." She suggests._

_"We'll think about it. Thank you for the offer, Mom." Kat says as we walk up the stairs._

_She appears to be unharmed by her sudden relapse but I still keep my hand on her back as we climb to the top of the staircase. I quietly push the door to Sam's room open and to my horror I find him lying on his right side, facing away from the door, utterly motionless._

_"My God, Sam. What happened? Buddy, you were getting all better. What on earth went wrong?" I ask looking pained at Katarina feeling another migraine forming._

_We step closer to the young boy's bed and I place a hand on the sheets and comforters that cover his whole left side and back. Kat warms her hands and then places two fingers on Sam's fevered neck._

_"He's alive." She whispers as if that is the only good thing._

_"How's his pulse though? Is it weak?" I press._

_"Yes, very. Poor boy. Maybe the antibiotics just did not work for him." She suggests._

_"I suppose they couldn't have."_

_"We should leave him be and allow him to rest." Kat states heading for the door._

_"Yeah, I'll be down soon. I just want a minute alone with him." I say walking to the other side of his bed so I can see his face._

_After a few minutes of simply studying the ill boy, I take his small hand in my own and feel the shocking difference between our temperatures. His hands are ice cold. I press my cheek into his forehead and he's burning up. I gently pry his mouth open to insert a thermometer and hold it in place until it beeps. I nervously read the numbers. 104.7 degrees Fahrenheit. Holy smokes!_

_"Mom! Dad! Kat! Dad!" I yell. I hear all three of them running up the steps and jump as they burst into the room._

_"Son, what's wrong? What's wrong?!" Dad asks just as panicked as I am._

_"He has a 104.7 degree fever." I blurt._

_"What?!" Mom shouts._

_"Help me." I plead to Dad. "Help me."_

_He just nods sharply once. "What do you need?"_

_"Mom? Do you have any thinner sheets? Kat, baby I need cool water and wash cloths. Dad, help me get his shirt off." I say jumping everyone into action._

_I gently tug Sam's sweatshirt off over his head while Dad is vigorously unbuttoning the fleece shirt. All that is left is Sammy's hot, bare chest. Mom strips the sheets off the bed and replaces them with a single, thin sheet as Kat brings the water and cloths to us. I reach for Sam's forearm so Katarina can insert another IV but as soon as I am holding it in the air; his wrist sickeningly bobs up and down, loosely attached to his arm._

_"Dad?! How did his wrist become broken?" I ask horrified._

_"What?! I have no idea?"_

_"Mom, can you bring me your First Aid kit? I need to splint this. Take him to the doctor to have a cast fitted as soon as he's a little better." I explain._

_Once the kit is placed in my hands, I quickly but tightly splint Sam's tiny wrist. Kat soon injects the IV needle into his forearm. With the cool cloths on his head and chest, Sam's fever has dropped significantly. We all sigh with relief when the thermometer reads 103.2._

_"Good work. All of you." Dad states. "Kyle, Katarina, come downstairs for dinner. You can stay here tonight as well. I don't know what your sleeping arrangements are, but we have two guest rooms if you need them."_

_"Dad, it's been the same for like, I don't know, the past three years. We sleep together, but clothes stay on. Always, until we're married of course." Kat says laughing a bit._

_"Well I'm glad to hear you two are sticking to that. Good to hear. Now, both of you, come downstairs and eat some dinner." Dad instructs._

_Mom and Kat head down the stairs but I still stand in the hallway._

_"Son, are you going to eat with us?" Dad asks._

_"Actually, I think I'm just going to go to bed. I have a really bad migraine and I just want to lay down; if that's ok." I state rubbing the back of my head and trying to read Dad's face._

_"Well, are you sure son? I can bring you some food." He tries._

_"Yeah, I'm sure. I'll eat tomorrow. Promise."_

_"Ok, well I'll see you in the morning then. Holler if you need anything. Oh, there are sweatpants and sweatshirts in my drawer if you don't want to sleep in jeans."_

_"Oh, ok. Thanks." My head is starting to hurt so badly it is becoming hard to think._

_"I'll see you in the morning, son. Get some sleep. You know I love you right?"_

_"Yep. Love you too, Dad." I mumble and walk into Mom and Dad's room to grab a sweatshirt and sweatpants to sleep in before turning into the guest bedroom with the queen sized bed._

_I rummage around the suitcase Kat brought with her to bring more IV's for Sam that I had lugged into our bedroom and finally find the Advil pill bottle. I open the cap, rip off the silver seal that covers the pills and pop a few of them into my mouth before swallowing them. I've grown used to taking pills without water since the lack of water in boot camp, but it's so much easier to take them with water. The pills go down without a hitch and I change into Dad's clothes and crawl into the bed. I subconsciously place my right arm across the bottom of my ribcage and let myself drift off into the wonderful, welcoming abyss of undisrupted sleep._

* * *

_**Katarina's POV:**_

_The meal Mom had fixed was delicious! I finally hauled myself upstairs to our bedroom at about midnight. I washed my face and brushed my teeth in the bathroom before heading into Mom and Dad's room to grab a pair of pajamas Mom told me to wear. I quietly tiptoe into our master bedroom where I change and climb into bed next to Kyle. I snuggle close to my fiancé's warm body and kiss his lips goodnight. When I feel just how hot his face is though, I gently pull his sweatshirt off of his sweaty body. He looks utterly exhausted but just so peaceful. I lay his right arm across his chest again and wrap my right arm his abdomen. I soon fall asleep listening to Kyle's steady breathing and feeling his strong heartbeat reverberate throughout his quiet body._

_My alarm goes off at 6:45 in the morning and I quickly put a halt to the obnoxious beeping. I slowly move my arm off of Kyle's abdomen and start to sit up. My poor fiancé is in the same position he was last night. He must've been so tired._

_"Kyle baby, we have to get up. I know you don't have to be at the camp until 10 this morning, but I need to get to my shift which starts at 8:30." When he doesn't respond, I try again. "C'mon sweetie, we have to get ready to go." I say and lay my hand on his bare chest._

_I gasp when I feel the coldness of his body. I quickly run my hands all over his chest. His whole body is ice cold. I tap his cheek and kiss his lips, frantically trying to wake him._

_"Kyle! Kyle, wake up! Wake up!" I sob as I try to find a heartbeat for my fiancé._

_Two whole minutes pass before a very slight, very weak beating in his neck meets my shaking fingertips. I let out a shaky breath._

_"Dad! Mom! Dad!" I yell hysterically through my tears._

_I jump in surprise when Dad throws the door open and rushes over to me._

_"Kat, Katarina, what's wrong? What's wrong sweetie?" he asks scanning his eyes over my shaking body._

_I point down to Kyle's motionless body and start to shake even harder. I watch full of guilt when Dad's face turns as white as a piece of paper with shock and worry._

_"What happened, Kat? What happened?!" he shouts._

_"I, I don't know, Dad. I don't know!" I sob. "His body's ice cold, his heart is barely beating." I choke out not understanding why Dad is yelling at me._

_"Ok, ok. Kat, Katarina!" He shouts. He continues when my sobs quickly turn into whimpers. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Kat."_

_"For what? Is he dead? Oh my gosh, he's dead." I start sobbing harder as Mom hesitantly enters the room trying to comfort me through my violent sobs and shaking._

_"Lily, I need you to check on Sam. Please. We need him to stay calm." Dad says sensibly as Mom hurries out of the room. "No Kat, Kyle is not dead yet. I'm sorry for shouting at you. That's all. I love you sweetie and I need you to calm down a bit so you don't have a seizure alright?" Dad soothes._

_I try my best to calm down and the violent shaking soon subsides. Dad is examining Kyle and asks me a few questions along the way._

_"Does he have a history of heart disease in his family?" he asks._

_"I don't know."_

_"Oh my gosh. Katarina, did he take any pills last night? Check the pill bottle. Was it new?" he asks._

_"Yes."_

_"Count the pills, tell me how many are left." He states as I hurry to our suitcase and start counting the Advil pills that are left._

_"No, no. No!" I choke._

_"Kat, Katarina, how many are left? How many!"_

_"Twenty-one. Twenty-one out of twenty-five. He took four, Dad. He took four instead of two." I sob._

_My father's face pales as he calls for Mom. "Lily? Lily, get an ambulance here! Tell them it's an accidental prescription drug overdose. Hurry! He doesn't have much time left!"_

_"Oh Kyle," I sob flinging myself onto his cold and limp body. "He was so tired, Dad. He was in so much pain. I bought him smaller pills. He must've thought that two were one. I didn't tell him, Dad. I didn't tell him!" I sob even harder._

_I work at the hospital and every day I see what a drug overdose, prescription or not, does to people. I don't ever freak out. But now, but now it's my fiancé and I've completely lost it. I can't lose him. I won't be able to live without him. He can't die! He just can't!_

_"Katarina, you didn't do this sweetie. It was simply a mistake."_

_"A mistake that can take his life!" I exclaim. "And I made that mistake. If I had told him, he would've remembered and this, this wouldn't have happened at all!" I shout angrily at myself._

_"Cameron, they're on their way. They'll be here as soon as they can." Lily says poking her head into the room._

_"Ok thank you. Kat, his heart's starting to fail. I'm going to have to ask you to get up and standing next to me so I can give him CPR." Dad states very calmly._

_"Oh, of course. I'm sorry. I didn't want to be in your way." I say, nervously watching as Dad gently presses on Kyle's chest a few times before pausing, waiting for a stronger heartbeat to surface._

_A few long minutes of this brings Kyle's heart to a weak, steady beating once more. Three minutes later, four paramedics hurry up the stairs to our bedroom. They carefully lift him out of our bed and strap him onto a stretcher before inserting two IV's and rushing back out to the ambulance. One paramedic stays in the room a split-second longer and asks Dad what the drug was._

_"It was just Advil. I just didn't want you to think he was on something." He explains._

_"Ok, I see. Thank you."_

_"We'll meet you at the hospital. Please, save him." Dad pleads._

_"We'll do our best sir. I have to go." The medic states and runs out to the ambulance and jumps in just as it starts to pull away, dashing off in the early morning sunrise to the ER._

_"C'mon Kat. Let's eat something and then get ready to go." Dad says._

_I reluctantly follow him downstairs for a light breakfast before changing into a better pair of clothes and heading off to the very small hospital in Vyborg. Mom stayed behind with Sam, not wanting to leave him until he could come with her. Hopeful the little boy will benefit from the antibiotics he is taking. An hour and a half later, a doctor leads me and Dad to the room where Kyle is. He says that he should make a full recovery and that most of the Advil has been flushed out of his system with the multitudes of IVs. My dear, sweet Kyle is barely awake when we enter but he flashes me a weak version of the smile I first saw him four years ago._

_"Kyle Alexander Morris, don't you ever do that to me again." I breathe and kissing his cheek._

_"I'm so sorry Katarina. I wasn't paying a bit of attention to what I was doing." He whispers, kissing my lips._

_"I should've told you that,"_

_"Kat! No, no you didn't do anything wrong. You did absolutely nothing baby. Don't you ever blame yourself for this or anything else stupid that I do. You hear me babe? Nothing. Don't ever, ever blame yourself." He says his voice turning strict._

_"Ok,"_

_"Good. You know I love you so much sweetie."_

_"Yes, I know." I say smiling._

_A few minutes later, Mom arrives with Sam who is feeling a great deal better than he was last night. She has his wrist put in a proper cast and they both come in to visit Kyle. Thing went pretty good during the three days Kyle was emitted into the hospital. When he was discharged, we both stayed at Mom and Dad's house for a month or so and I bought a used car so Kyle could stay home while I drove to work. From that night onward, I have always watched Kyle take all of his medication and I've never bought a smaller Advil pill for him. I doubt I ever will either._

* * *

_**February 26, 1995: Dear St. Petersburg,**_

_**I'm finally better now! Apparently, I had the flu. Kyle and Kat have been staying here too and they are so much fun! I love living here and sometimes, I know it's bad, but sometimes I wish Daddy wouldn't come home so I could live with Mom and Dad. They are so much nicer to me. Even my new Mommy doesn't like me very much. Last month, she smacked me across the face for asking if I could go outside. I don't get these women who don't like me doing anything with myself. It's such a boring life sitting in meetings, listening to people jabber on about things I don't understand or care to understand and just having to ask permission for every single little thing I do. It's such a pain. Mom and Dad just want me to be happy. Daddy just wants me to follow his dreadful orders. At least he won't be back for another few weeks. I hope he doesn't hit me for getting sick. It wasn't my fault but I'll probably be beaten anyway. Well, I have to go, Kyle is going to take me to a horse stable where he owns two horses and Mom and Dad also have two horses there. Kyle's going to let me ride one of his horses and jump them too! I love horses. They're so much fun! I'll write more about this later. I have to go! Bye!**_

_**-Samuel W. Braddock**_

* * *

**Jules' POV:**

Wow. I glance up at my teammates that surround me.

"I wonder what happened in between." I state wrapped in my own thoughts.

"Yeah, and who are Kyle and Kat?" Spike asks.

"I don't know but I have a feeling that we're going to find out soon enough." Ed says.

I flip to the next page of Sam's journal and a folded piece of notebook paper falls out into my lap. Hesitantly, I open it and begin to read aloud.

_October 1, 2013: Jules,_

_Hi baby, I see that you've finished reading about my horrifying experience that happened when I was seven. I know you have questions, and all of them will be answered in due time. I know you want to rush off and find my killer, but you already have. At least, you've found one of my killers. You'll see soon enough my love. I want you to stay here for a few more days. You'll know when it's time to leave. I have given coordinates to your next location, but focus on your job here in St. Petersburg. Be careful Jules. People are not who they seem to be. Sarge, Ed, Wordy, Spike, Clark; take care of her for me. Give her all of your love. Don't let her feel alone, not even for one second. Please, be careful team. Things have changed. You'll know all that you need to soon enough. That is, if everything plays out how I expect it to. I love you guys. Julianna Callaghan, I love you more than your mouth and heart can utter over two lifetimes. Watch your backs._

_-Samuel W. Braddock (N 44 48.556 E 20 26.071)_

* * *

_**A/N:**_ _Ok, well that was a long chapter! I really didn't want it to be that long, but oh well. Please let me know what you thought of it! Again, I am sooooooo, sooooooo sorry that it has been taking me so long to post new chapters. I feel terrible but I have not abandoned any of my stories. I have been writing a book that I'm hoping to have legit published by Penguin Press or one of those companies. Hopefully it will be out on shelves within 3-5 years! I'm so happy! Yes, I am young to be publishing a book. How young you ask? Young enough. Any way PM me if you want to know more about it and I'll be happy to answer you! Thanks so much for reading and please, please review! One of my outside kitty cats has been missing for a few days and the last time we saw him, he was screaming with pain. We think he has died. :**( Review would make me feel better. Thanks again._


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10:**_**A/N: Hi pipsqueaks! What be up my little furballs?! Don't worry, I call everyone a furball or fuzzface. It's my version of an endearing term. So, I hope everything in your life is going well and I surely hope you enjoy this chapter! I am a little depressed that I have only received one review; 1 REVIEW! **__**for chapter 9. That makes me sad peeps! I know you guys are reading it, the stats don't lie….please! Review!**__** I really do love hearing what you guys think! Enough of my ranting….this is a relatively short chapter; I hope it will be at least, and thanks in advance for reading and reviewing. Hope you like it! Anyway, I'm so sorry this has taken me so long to post….life is very busy at the moment and in a few weeks it should quiet down. **__**So, so**__** sorry to keep you guys waiting. Hope you enjoy this one!**_

**Jason's POV: **_Saturday, November 9, 2013 (early evening in Kandahar)_

"Bury him today." I say into my cellphone, knowing that is already Sunday morning in Ottawa. "You have his body, right?" A pause. "No, I cannot attend. I have to take care of things here. My wife and daugther flew in last night." A long pause. "Yes, I'll fly over later. I'll be able to find it. Just make sure they arrive safely." The gentleman on the other end speaks for a moment. "Yes, Thank you. Goodbye." I state softly before ending the call.

I sigh shakily and slowly glance around the room. My wife has removed the few pictures of Samuel that I had on the wall and has packed them away. In my office here and at work I still have a few pictures of my little Sammy that I haven't taken care of yet. Jacqueline has never seen them and I'll see to it that she never will. I can't even enter my offices any more. It hurts too badly to see Samuel so happy or even just so alive looking in the photos that have frozen time. To see them, to see him, forces guilt upon me so greatly it is difficult to breathe. This was not _my choice_. I did not _want_ to do this to my son; my perfect, beautiful son.

"How could he have only been twenty-six?" I ask myself aloud. A good life carelessly cut short by none other than myself. "How could I have done this to him?! He was the joy of my life! My little Sammy is gone because of me! Why did I do this? How could I have destroyed my own blood? He was better than me. He had more things to look forward to. He had a life! He was happy! And I took it! I took it all away from him! What am I?!" I scream between my sobs.

I collapse to my knees on the guest bedroom carpet where I've been sleeping for the past few days. I'm quivering uncontrolably, my whole body racked with tears. Tears from ten years ago that I'm just now shedding. I shakily stand and jog to Sammy's small bedroom. I gasp when I find that all that's left are the white walls, carpet and sheet covering the twin bed and the single brown bookcase. The whole room has been stripped! Sammy's pillow isn't even on the bed! When did Jacqueline do this? Why didn't I know about it? I know I haven't been out of the guest room very often, but I didn't think I'd been in there _that_ long! I can't stand it any longer. I need Sammy back. I need something of his now! I whip out my cell phone from my back pocket and hit speed dial number six. I wait impatienly, pacing around the tiny nook-in-the-wall of a room as the phone rings.

"Hello?" a female voice answers.

"Jacquline, where's Sam's pillow?" I ask breathlessly.

"What?"

"Where's Sam's pillow?!" my voice rises an octave as the hot tears stream down my face.

"In the attic, in a box. I packed it away when he died. Why?"

As soon as she finishes speaking, I hang up and hurry out into the hall. I pull down the attic steps and stumble up them before frantically tearing through boxes until I find a small light blue pillow case with little brown monkeys and bright yellow stars encasing a small pillow. I sob as I tightly hug Sammy's pillow, burying my head into it.

"Sammy I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, Sammy!" I sob.

Once I collect myself, I climb back down the attice steps. As I walk down the hall, my eyes wander to my dead son's bedroom. I see the emptiness and my heart feels as if it is being ripped out of my chest by icy, cold hands. I break into a fresh bathc of choked tears involuntarily. I begin to walk down the spiral, wooden staircase in my socks but the tears blur my vision, causing me to misjudge the distance. I slip one of the first steps and I find myself falling down the staircase. My head hits nearly every step and after the third or fourth hit everything turn black.

_(Four hours later)_

"Mnhmn," I moan as my eyes open.

It takes me a few minutes to realize where I am but by then, I have a massive head ache and there's blood on the floor from where my head was split open a bit from the stairs. My whole body is bruised and sore. When I try to sit up, I find myself in the midst of a dizzy spell. Sammy's pillow lies a few feet from where I am. I grab it and stumble into the bathroom, vomiting in the toilet. I probably have a concussion. Joy. I slowly walk into the kitchen to grab a bit of food and a few glasses of water before walking into the living room, placing everything on the coffee table beside the sofa, including my cell phone, before easing myself down. I pull a blanket over my shivering self and curl up, clutching Sammy's pillow tight to my chest as I drift off into sleep. On and off during the next three or four days, I wake up, eat a bit, vomit, drink and fall back asleep. More often than not, crying myself to sleep.

**Clark's POV:** _Saint Petersburg, RU: Saturday. _

We search the General's house a bit more before scurrying out of it with Sam's journals. Dad books a hotel and we crash their for the night. I visit Jules before we go to bed. She's so sad and I know she's lonely. I don't know why anyone would want to murder Sam. He was such a great guy. And the best part about him, is that he would just listen to you. Dad doesn't have much time to do that anymore. Well, I guess he never really did in the first place. The next morning, we all wake up and walk around the city, half pretending to be tourist and half acting like businessmen and woman. We ask storeowners if they know a Jason or Samuel Braddock but everyone always says 'no'. When we rephrase the question after an hour or so to, does anyone know a high-ranking Canadian military official, we receive a few yes'. They say that "Edward" was a fine man. Not many knew that he had a son and the ones that did know, say that they never saw him much. They were most always surrounded by an entourage of security. While we are speaking with a store's manager, a woman in line overhears our conversation. As we aim to leave the store, she tugs us aside.

"I know who you're speaking of." She says in broken English. "Edward Aksakov, right? It was a _long_ time ago, probably ten or even eleven years ago but I was walking down the street, just two streets over from here, and I saw him with a very young boy, holding his hand. It was very late, close to ten o'clock in September and it was very cold. We spoke for a moment. The little boy was very, shy and quiet. He simply held his daddy's hand and stood quietly beside him, starting at the pavement for most of the time. He looked just like his father though, dirty blonde hair, and beautiful blue eyes. Edward Aksakov, now _he _ looked Russian, his boy did not look fully Russian. He might have been mixed with Ukrainian or Latvian, Estonian, Lithuanian, one of those more European countries near here. Mr. Aksakov's eyes were more icy and slightly distant. He was a very attractive man, with a strong, muscular frame on him. His boy was skinny, too skinny, and scared. I'd say it looked like he had been beaten far too many times, but I do not know the circumstances. Perhaps he was a scared little boy. Why are you inquiring about them?" She asks.

"We're just investigating some incidents Mr. Aksakov might have been involved in." Sargent Parker tells her as honestly as he can.

"Oh, is his son in trouble? Is he hurt?"

Dad and Sargent Parker exchange glances with each other. "Can you keep quiet until we tell you what's going on?"

"Oh certainly."

"Mr. Aksakov is a person of interst in his son's murder." Sgt. Parker explains in a hushed voice.

The woman's face pales as she stares wide-eyed at Sgt. Parker. "No," she starts in disbelief. "No, he-he couldn't have killed Samuel!" she cries before she gasps at her mistake.

All of us are taken aback. "Ma'am, you need to come with us." Dad says firmly, taking her arm and leading her back to our hotel.

Once we're sitting back down in our rooms, which we've turned into an interrogation room, Dad and Sgt. Parker start the investigation. Jules is on edge even while I sit beside her with my arm around her back. They look through her wallet at her consent before asking the vital questions.

"Ms. Azarova." Dad starts. "What do you know? During your whole little story, you were calling Samuel, the boy, or Mr. Aksakov's son. If you knew his name, why didn't you call him by it?"

"I, I promised Edward years ago that if anything happened, I wouldn't tell anyone about the connection between he and Samuel. He couldn't have killed Samuel though. He loved him. He was everything to Edward." Ms. Azarova states quite upset.

"Did you find it strange that Mr. Aksakov made you promise to never tell anyone about the connection between him and his son?" Sgt. Parker asks.

"Well, no, not exactly. I knew he was a very high-ranking official in the Canadian miltary and I figured it had something to do with that." She says.

"How did you learn all of this, Ms. Azarova? Surely, it couldn't have been in that cold street. You saw him again, alone this time, didn't you?" Dad presses.

"Why, yes, I did. We exchanged numbers that night and a few days later, we made arrangements to meet at my apartment. We had a lovely dinner."

"Did you have intercouse with him?" Dad asks.

"Yes. We did. As well as the few times after that, that we met."

"I assume that he always came alone?" Sgt. Parker asks.

"Yes. He was always alone. We talked about Samuel often. He expressed some fatherly woes about being single dad. Children can get on people's nerves."

"Did he ever speak about abusing Samuel?" Jules asks suddenly. Ms. Azarova's eyes grew confused. "Physically, verbally or sexually."

"Oh, Heavens no. He was awfully shaken up one day though when he came over. He just kept saying that Samuel was hurt." She responds.

"What else did he say?" Spike pushes.

"He said that Samuel had been attacked after school. Bleeding and left for dead. He was terribly worried, but he left him at home so I suppose he couldn't have been too bad. He sort of flipped when I suggested that he take him to the hospital. Edward was speaking of broken ribs and limbs and something about a car hitting him, I'm not sure it was all very jumbled when he was speaking. The only clear thing I got out of it, was that Samuel was badly injured. I don't why or who had done it to him, but Edward was terribly shaken. He called back to Samuel at home and when the boy didn't answer, he started panicking. I'm still not sure what happened but he left shortly after and the next day I discovered that he had left the country. Flown to Uzbekistan. I thought it was a strange place to take a hurt boy, but apparently, that's where he was." She explains.

"Have you seen him since?" Wordy asks.

"No, but he has written me a few letters. Not many though and they stopped years ago."

"Do you still have them?" Dad asks.

"Yes, most of them. The few I don't have is because of my ex-husband's rash actions."

"Okay, can we please have them?"

"Yes, certainly. You just have to believe me though. Edward would never do anything to hurt Samuel. That boy was his life." She pleas.

"We hope that he did not murder Samuel, but we need all the proof we can get to prove that he didn't." Sgt. Parker says working the angles, knowing that if he said that we need everything possible to prove his guilt, it certainly wouldn't have worked well with this woman who is obviously infatchuated with the General, who probably seduced her many times in order to build a trust of respect.

"Can I go home and fetch the letters for you?" she asks.

"Yes, Constable Lane with be accompanying you. Mr. Aksakov has many people after us. We wouldn't want you to be injured in any crossfire." Sgt. Parker states as Dad leads the woman out. "Well that went just swell." He says sitting down on a bed.

"How many alias' does the General have?" Jules asks. "And what happened to Sam that night? Didn't Mr. Braddock feel strange about have 'actions' with another woman leaving his five year old son at home?"

"Apparently not." Spike states.

"Do you think she's in on it?" I ask Sgt. Parker.

"I don't know, Clark. Seems to me that she never met Sam after that night in the street. At least she never mentioned it. I don't know why she'd be so attatched to him. I find that strange."

"What're we going to do?!" Jules exclaims starting to break.

"We're going to find who actually killed Sam and why they did it." I state determindely.

"That's right, Clark. Jules, was there anything else in the journal you found in your basement?" he asks.

"I don't think so," She replies. "But let me double check." She stands and pulls the black, leather-backed journals out of her bag and begins to flip through it. "Hey, boss. There _are_ more pages. Look at this." She exclaims pointing to the page.

_My family has many names. It is hard to distinguish one from another. Use this my love and it will be easier to find your next destination. ~Samuel W. Braddock_

_ e _ _ _

E _ _ _ _

E _ _ _ _ _

_ i _ _ _

_ e _ _

"What the heck is that supposed to mean?" Wordy asks, all of us reading the page.

"I think it's a list of names that apparently lead us to our next destination." Jules tries to explain.

"You mean, like alias'?" I ask.

"Yeah, I guess it has to be. 'My family has many names.' That's certainly true. We haven't heard one person yet call the General by Jason or Mr. Braddock." She states.

"Well, let's try to fill in the blanks." Sgt. Parker suggests. "His first wife, the one in Latvia, what'd she call him again?"

"Uh, hold on, I have it written down somewhere." Jules says fumbling around in her notebook. "Ah, here it is. Leons. Strange name if you ask me."

"Latvian." I help. "But Ms. Azarova said he was Russian."

"She said he _looked_ Russian. That doesn't mean he is." Jules points out.

I blush and feel pretty stupid. Of course somebody can look like something and not be it. Pinapple moment I guess.

"Okay so where does 'Leons' fit?" Sgt. Parker asks.

"What about the bottom space?" Wordy suggests.

"No, it's missing a line for the 's'." I say.

"The top one! It has to be the top one!" Spike shouts excitedly.

"Good, now what about 'Edward'?" Jules asks. "There's two slots that begin with 'E' and they're nearly the same length."

"The third one." I state. "It has all the spaces."

"Great! Good job, Clark." Jules exclaims hugging me.

I just keep smiling. We're all still gathered around the journal trying to figure out the other names.

L e o n s

E d w a r d

_ e _ _

"Now what? We don't have any idea for what the other names could be and if we pick the wrong name, we'll end up in the wrong place and waste our time!" Spike says as Dad walks back in with the letters.

"What's this?" he asks.

Sgt. Parker explains it and the rest of us read the letters. There's a whole bunch of them, mostly talking about love and making love and their relationship. There's a few poems and presses flowers too. I guess he was really into her, or just needed an albi. Don't see how this is going to help him though. He sure made a lot of promises to this woman: vacation, engagement, marriage, children, houses, cars, money, love, _that_ kind of love too. No wonder she bought right into it.

"What're we going to do now?" Jules asks.

I can tell she wants to go somewhere but we really don't have anywhere to go except to cooridinates Sam gave us. Over the next two days, we don't find any other names that General Braddock used, so we're stuck on the puzzle. I guess this is the right time to leave. Off to Belarus.

_**A/N:**__ I'm am soooooooo, sooooooo sorry to keep you guys waiting so long! I wanted to put more in this chapter, but you guys derserve this now. Thank you so much for still reading this, I know it's been a month at least. This has to be one of my favorite stories, probably because I know what's happening at the end __, but I'm glad you guys are still reading. Please, please, please review! Thank you so much!_


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note/Notice!**

_Hi! Oh my gosh it's been sooo long since I've last updated and I'm SOOO sorry! I know this book seems to ramble an awful lot, but when it's finally finished, it will make sense. I promise! Um, so here's the deal, with school and work and all, I haven't had much time to update anything but this is what I'm going to do: This is going to be the ending of Part One. Part Two will start with chapter 11. I am so thankful for all of you that have been reading and reviewing this story…I love you all! I PROMISE PART TWO WILL BE UP BY WEDNESDAY, 10/15! __ Thanks again so much!_

~Kitty-kraze


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